


The Master in the TARDIS

by Silarcta



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Canon, M/M, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:49:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 123,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silarcta/pseuds/Silarcta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor convinces the Master to travel the stars with him and it really doesn't turn out all that well, except in the ways they never expected. This story follows the seasons and episodes past "Last of the Time Lords" with the Master at the Doctor's side in a conflicting, humorous and downright destructive relationship. Each chapter features a minor crossover, but knowledge about the universes included is not a prerequisite to enjoying this fanfic. Has all the spoilers for Doctor Who, Torchwood and BBC's Sherlock. Rated mature for vaguely detailed sexual content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Master in the TARDIS

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction was first published on my FFnet account, 9/24/2011. A huge thanks to my friend Eva is in order; her contribution and support made this possible and also added a lot more Firefly references. All comments/reviews are highly appreciated.

Now was not the time to remember everything they had done together. Their rivalry was old but their friendship was older still. He shouldn't be remembering that now, of all times. Everything always got so complicated.

"The drumming. Will it stop?"

The disgust and triumph was gone from the Master's eyes as he looked up at the Doctor with a mad intensity.

"If you would just let me help!"

The Doctor was losing it. From the first moment on he had only wanted to help. The Master had gotten his one chance, but here he was, dying in his arms and the Doctor had tears down his cheeks. He didn't want to be the last one.

The onlookers stood in silence as the Master used his last strength to grab the Doctor by his neck and pull his head down. He whispered something to him, something they couldn't hear. The Doctor seemed more concerned with keeping the Master alive than with the words tickling his ear.

"Fine. Regenerate. _Regenerate_."

The smirk returned to the Master's lips, despite the pain he was in. Then the golden energy started to surge around his hands. They were still cuffed, but they had no time to mind that. The Doctor was almost too relieved to put him down and back off to a safe distance.

Afterwards, the world returned to normal. Mostly. Martha would be staying behind and the Doctor had a new passenger. It was a difficult goodbye, and it seemed to be the hardest on the Doctor. Martha would be going back to her family and while as the Doctor wasn't alone any more, it certainly wasn't the same.

"Are you actually taking him with you?" Martha asked once their goodbyes had been said. An afterthought, albeit a wary one. Her family would be traumatised for life after what the Master had done to them. He didn't deserve to be taken along with the Doctor, willing or unwilling. But the Doctor only nodded to her, then reached out to embrace her once more.

When he entered the TARDIS and shut the door behind him, it was like closing another one of the many chapters that made out his life.

Inside the TARDIS, the Master was standing with his hands still cuffed. Regenerating had made him blond, but otherwise he hadn't changed. This body still had some attempts at conquering the universe left in it.

"What now then, Doctor?" he asked with as much spite as he could muster. He practically spat the man's name out. "Going to lock me up? Stuff me in the engine room with a straight-jacket, put me in the back of your wardrobe and carry on like usual? Oh wait, you are too _kind_ for that, aren't you?" he sneered at the Doctor. "You're going to try and _fix_ me, but we both know better. This is a prison."

The Doctor had to lean a back a little to get the Master out of his face. He felt bad as it was, but with the Master's life out of immediate danger it was hard to be sympathetic after all the things that had been said and done.

"Oh, come on," he said instead, putting on his usual bright appearance. "You know your way around the place. You had more than enough time in here to feel at home, you and your wife." And he didn't say it without the proper amount of bitterness in his voice.

"You have a point. I should have put sticky-notes wherever we had sex in here," he said, aiming for a vile smirk at the Doctor.

"I'm not really too worried," the Doctor replied before he turned on his heel to face the dashboard of the TARDIS. He was already working on getting them off the planet.

The Master gritted his teeth at the Doctor's back. He wasn't getting the disgusted reaction he wanted, and the Doctor was just being awfully quiet and not any fun at all. Determined to have a response, he walked up behind the Doctor with care. It sort of ruined it that he had to stand on his toes to reach up, but nevertheless. He whispered at him, and the Doctor froze in mid-action.

"That girl was more than a friend, wasn't she? The Doctor and his _companion_ ; you keep screwing people up. And now there's just me, and I am already as screwed up as they get. You think you aren't alone any more, finding me, but now you are more alone than ev—!"

The air was knocked out of him as the Doctor slammed him against the nearest beam. Hands still cuffed, the Master had no way of pushing him off. He could just smirk that detestable smirk of his, enjoying this so much despite being pinned and chained.

"So is this what you do to your companions, Doctor? Whenever you get tired of acting as a free tour guide. We all know what 'showing you the stars' is an analogy for."

"Why do you have to be like this?"

The Doctor was almost as frustrated as when the Master had been dying in his arms. The Master was hoping for another round of tears on his behalf. He could have done without the Doctor's hands moving up to grab his face, though.

"When I look at you, I only think of how unfair this has all been to us both," the Doctor told him. "We are the last two Time Lords and we should be doing anything _but_ fighting. You are just as lonely."

"Not at all." The Master's smirk turned into a wide grin. They were staring into each other's eyes, now, and the air was crackling around them with tension. "The drums, Doctor. I'm never without the drums."

The Doctor gave up. The Master was forever unreasonable. Wasn't it the Doctor himself who used to simply say yes when people claimed that things were unfair? With a frown, he whipped his screwdriver out to uncuff the Master.

"I still need to lock you up."

"Really, you should let me fly this thing," the Master said as he rubbed at his wrists.

"That's what I'm worried about."

"I am way better at it than you. You leave the breaks on. And I am taking your bedroom."

The Master pushed past the Doctor, wanting to remain in control for as long as he could. He stopped only to look back at the Doctor with insistence in his eyes. "And remember what I told you before I regenerated. This isn't a pleasure cruise you invited me for. It never will be."

The Master was a child trapped in a constant temper tantrum. The Doctor needed time to cool off, and so he supposed the Master did, if he could cool off at all. It was better to just leave him for now. The Doctor wouldn't complain about the Master taking his room. At least he was making himself at home. This time with an invitation.

*

"Ah, you'll love this, it's _brilliant_ ," the Doctor insisted as he danced back and forth around the TARDIS' control panel. He was taking them down and the familiar noise was sounding through the interior of the ship.

"This is what you get worked up about?" the Master asked with a demeaning look at the overexcited Doctor. "Travelling around, _seeing_ things. No wonder we are fighting. You crave the excitement."

The Doctor didn't listen. Instead he ran to the door and pushed it open with a laugh. "What's not to get worked up about? Have a look at that."

He trailed off for a moment, just looking at the world that unfolded in front of him. Then he turned around to haul the Master with him outside. "These are the beaches of Sal Saliin." He gave the Master a push out the door, and the man actually stopped and looked.

As far as they could see, the surface of the planet was covered in sand and water. It was flat and glittery. The water was shallow, without a single ripple to disturb the reflection of a blood red sky. The suns were going down, making the sand glitter like diamonds.

"Crystal dust, all of it. Nothing lives here but for a particular coral that feeds on the minerals of the sand," the Doctor informed. He was pleased with himself, leaning on the doorframe of the TARDIS while he watched the Master.

"You only took me here because there aren't any people around. You are scared of me." There was a satisfied gleam in the Master's eyes as he looked back at the Doctor, but the Doctor was busy taking his shoes off.

"Shall we?"

Too bloody cheerful. As they wandered on, barefoot in the hot sand, the Master was thinking about all the things he could have done to the Doctor before his dictatorship went down the drain. He could have choked the life out of him, let him regenerate, applied various creative torture techniques until the Doctor had no more will to live. Oh yes. The Master was nothing if not enjoying himself where they walked across the alien beaches.

The crystals were burning hot, and they waded through the waters to cool their feet. It was hardly more than ankle-deep most places; a gigantic mirror that rippled around them.

If only he could get the key to the TARDIS and leave the Doctor stranded here. Then he could have this pretty little planet all to himself, and the Master would never have another worry in his life.

They watched the suns go down from atop of some tall crystal formations. What few clouds dotted the sky were specked with magenta and purples in all hues. The TARDIS could be spotted in the far distance, casting a long shadow. The night sky was a swirling mass of stars and gas clouds, something that should have been painted.

"You know, this is actually not too bad," the Master said. He moved a little closer. They were sitting on the edge of the crystal formation. He could push the Doctor down. The drop could knock him out. There were some jagged crystals down there to break his fall.

"Isn't it, though?" The Doctor had his eyes on the horizon. "Sometimes a planet like this is exactly what I need. You'd be surprised at all the amazing places there are like this, with nothing to go there for but for the sheer beauty of it. Just looking at it is conquering it, eh? You and me, the only sentient beings in an entire world."

"Yes, yes I'm sure." The Master's hand was moving up behind the Doctor.

"I should take you to Woman Wept some time. An entire ocean, frozen with waves a hundred feet tall. Rose and I went there one..." He trailed off. No, he didn't want to talk about that with the Master. Not so soon. He looked down, until he felt the Master's hand on his back and turned his head up again.

The Master had faltered, and nothing really came of anything. He couldn't help it if he was distracted by the Doctor's pain. His companions appeared to be the only thing that really hurt the Doctor. Even aged and put in a wheelchair, the damn idiot didn't give in. No, he needed something special in order to suffer. And the Master so enjoyed his suffering.

"So you take all your companions to desert planets void of life. That's heartbreaking," the Master said with a scoff. He was feeling kind of awkward. His hand was still on the Doctor's back and he didn't know what to do with it. So he patted the Doctor's shoulder and got up. "I'm bored. Let's go back before I push you off this cliff."

Though he wouldn't admit it even if it was to save his own life, he did find the planet to be pretty. Somewhere deep down. If he could just bury the Doctor in the sand and be the only living creature there.

*

The Master discovered new things about the TARDIS every day. For one, there was a swimming pool in the library. Another thing that interested him was the Doctor's collection of books. It seemed endless. It had taken him a weekend to finish them, and that was saying something on his part.

For now he was trying out the pool. Taking the most rare and exquisite books he could find, he was folding paper boats and getting ready for massive naval warfare. If only he'd had his laser screwdriver; then he could really make these bitches sink. Making complimentary noises of destruction, he drove one of the boats into a second one, crushing them together into watery mush.

"Pew, pew!" The Master cackled like only he could. " _Boom_!"

The entire TARDIS shook. It sent books flying off their shelves and dust crumbling from the ceiling. The Master slipped on the floor of the pool and his entire fleet was sunk by a tidal wave.

He had barely poked his head up from underwater and gotten his bearings when the doors flew open and the Doctor sprang in. He had his glasses askew and far too much excitement.

"Nothing to worry about! We just crashed into the Titanic," he said with the biggest grin on his face. "Small scratch on the old girl, nothing I can't fix, and then I'll take us onto the ship. Grab yourself a tux and we're off."

Petulant, the Master ripped a page out from an especially dusty old book and started folding another boat. The Doctor's glee wore off somewhat.

"What are you doing with—Those are my books!"

The Doctor snatched them up and out of the Master's hands.

There was a long-drawn "No," from the Doctor and he groaned with a pitiful look at one book in particular. "You were one of my favourites."

"Pew, pew." The Master was trying to subtly aim his boat's imaginary laser cannon at the Doctor.

"Oh, stop that." The Doctor straightened his glasses so he could properly frown at the Master. "Now you're just trying to make me angry."

"Don't look at me. I'm naked, you pervert." The Master rubbed his nipples for great measure. He was all too delighted to see the Doctor's face go completely red before he stomped off to fix the TARDIS.

"You have five minutes," the Doctor called out before the doors were slammed shut.

*

After a one-hearted scolding from the Doctor, they both stepped out of the TARDIS to be faced with the ship's luxurious interior. The Doctor had even talked the Master into a tux, as neither of them could deny that he looked smart in fancy dress.

Together they looked around, taking in the atmosphere. Rich people in expensive clothing eating expensive food, or dancing to Christmas songs.

"Not my rhythm," the Master remarked before he steered himself towards the closest serving of champagne. He grabbed himself a glass and downed it before he shot an angry look at a nearby mechanical angel. "What are _you_ looking at?"

"Information: a soon-to-be drunk alcoholic sociopath," the angel replied in its robotic voice. The champagne glass shattered in the Master's clenched hand.

"What did you—?"

The Doctor grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him to the side. "Evening. And you would be?" he asked the angel.

"Information: heavenly host supplying tourist information."

"Good," the Doctor said, shooting the Master a sideways look. "So where exactly are we from? Terrible memory I'm afraid."

The Master scoffed and went for another glass of champagne. There had to be a way of making this more interesting. If only he'd had his screwdriver.

He set the glass down to interrupt the Doctor's conversation with the angel, grabbing him by the waist. The Doctor was dragged flailing out on the dance floor against his will and found one hand placed on the Master's shoulder, the other in a tight grip.

"Come on, Doctor. Do you even know how to dance?" the Master asked. His hand was creeping around the Doctor's waist.

"Actually, if I can just remember how to—"

The Master waltzed him across the floor, pushing other pairs out of the way with little afterthought.

"Don't look so suspicious, Doctor. You took me out here to have fun, didn't you?"

"You said this wasn't your rhythm," the Doctor reminded him, not at all comfortable.

"Excuse me? Waltz is a four step dance," the Master corrected him with a frown.

The Master didn't let him get away. After a while, the Doctor began to relax in his arms. The slow music was filling their heads, and for once they were doing something together other than fighting. The Master almost forgot what his real intentions had been.

"You are better at dancing than my wife was, I'll give you that."

The Doctor furrowed his brows at him. "Did you care about her, even a little?"

The Master shrugged. "She had the intelligence of a hole in the ground. At least the bitch had enough balls to shoot me. That took me by surprise."

The Doctor had to wonder if the Master cared about anything at all. He was insane, but that didn't have to be the only thing about him. He could always hope that this was the beginning of the Master's rehabilitation. For real, this time. And while that was all nice and good, the Master was getting a little too close for comfort.

"Nervous, Doctor? I think you're still a little scared of me," the Master said, smirking up at him. The hand at the Doctor's back was now at the small of his back, going down. He simply had too much fun making the Doctor flustered.

"I'm worried for you. There's a difference," the Doctor said. He'd had enough, and he pushed the Master back. "Don't get yourself in trouble. I want to have a look around." He should by all means not let the Master out of his sight, but there was a limit to the damage he could do to others without a weapon. Worst thing he could do was destroy his liver.

"Aye." The Master gave the Doctor's ass a pat before he went to grab himself another drink. He watched the Doctor out of the corner of his eye, though, waiting until the man was distracted with chatting to some waitress before he slithered off.

Once he was on his own, he pulled the Doctor's screwdriver out of his coat and gave it a twirl between his fingers. That had been disappointingly easy. First on his list was to get revenge on the angels.

All over the ship were panels that looped an endless commercial. With the sonic screwdriver, he could hack into the ship's system and take control of the angels. Oh, this was going to be a laugh.

About the same time as the angels started to spontaneously combust, the ship was hit by three meteors in a row. Chaos ensued among the few passengers that hadn't already been sucked out of the broken windows and into space.

The Doctor was running towards the control room when he almost crashed into the Master, who was heading in the other direction.

The Doctor snatched his screwdriver out of the Master's hand and glared at him. "Please say it wasn't you who took the shields down."

"Of course not," the Master said, putting his hands up. "I might have blown up the hosts and activated the ship's self-destruct, but I would _never_ lower the shields."

The Doctor looked at him in mute horror.

"And speaking of self-destruct, we really should get going," the Master insisted.

"This ship is headed towards Earth. The nuclear reactor is enough to wipe out the entire planet," the Doctor hissed at him. He took the Master by his upper arm and hauled him towards the control room.

"I agree. Best. Christmas. Ever."

Reaching the control room, they found one man wounded and the Captain dead. The Doctor looked to the Master.

"I _wish_ that was my doing, but your screwdriver is a rubbish gun."

"What happened?" the Doctor asked while he scanned the burning control panel.

"The Captain lowered the shields, sir," the wounded man gasped from the floor. "I tried to stop him, but he shot me. He was killed when the meteors hit and I don't know what happened. Somehow the self-destruct was enabled."

The Master tried not to look too proud, but failed. The Doctor wanted so badly to hit him.

"There are still people alive on this ship. If we can get the ship stabilized and avoid Earth..." The Doctor worked feverishly with his screwdriver over the control panel.

"Wouldn't really help. I deadlocked the self-destruct," the Master said happily. "And as I said, we should really get out of here before it's too late. Think of it this way; if the ship explodes now, rather on impact, it might save a few countries from complete annihilation."

"Why would you do this?" the Doctor yelled at him. "Why do you have to be like this?"

"You tell me. Because it's fun?"

The Doctor struggled for another minute with the control panel before sighing in defeat.

"I am so sorry," he muttered to no one and everyone at the same time. He put his screwdriver to the control panel one last time before he grabbed the Master and dragged him along once more. "If I knew better I would have left you here," he growled.

"What did you do?" the Master asked. He was keen on getting away from the explosion himself.

"I raised the shields. The explosion will be contained and the Earth will be safe."

"But everyone on here will die."

The Doctor sent him a sharp look, not saying anything. Once they reached the TARDIS, they could feel the whole ship shaking and he pushed the Master inside first before following after and shutting the door.

Hands pressed to the door of the TARDIS, the Doctor stared at the floor. It shouldn't have to go like this. He shouldn't for a moment have thought that he could leave the Master on his own and this was his fault.

They heard the explosion all around them. The TARDIS was safe behind its own shields, but they felt the world shake outside. It seemed an eternity before silence fell and the only thing out there was dead space.

With an enraged cry, he slammed his fist into the door before he whirled around to direct his anger at the Master. "Are you satisfied now? You killed the few innocent people still left on that ship. For a second there I thought... But now I know better."

The Master let out a slight laugh. "But Doctor. It was only a few people. You saved the Earth. Again. Isn't that enough?"

It wasn't enough. The Doctor was enraged, and that wasn't good for the Master. He spent the next days locked inside a room in the TARDIS, kicking and screaming at the door, going mad by himself. Just like the old days. There was nothing but him and the drumming, and when he wasn't screaming for the Doctor to let him out, he was hugging himself in a corner, rocking back and forth.

When the Doctor came to fetch him, he was sobbing quietly to himself. Even so the Doctor looked at him with frigid eyes.

"Is it too much to hope that you've even thought twice about what you did?"

The Master sniffled and glared at his feet. The Doctor felt a pang of guilt. He didn't know what else to do, though. He didn't know the first thing about responsibility. Here he was, trying to live his life like he always had, when he had a murderer to look after. He kneeled down in front of the Master, looking at him over the top of his glasses.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" he asked. It was just depressing, having the man with him.

"Can't you hear it, Doctor?" the Master asked. Tears were still rolling down his cheeks.

"The drums?" The Doctor had heard the Master mention them over and over again. "I can't. I'm sorry." He reached out to wipe the tears away. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

"Always so quick to promise things, aren't you?"

"It doesn't have to be like this. If you could just try and behave, we could go anywhere, see everything. You'll like it, just give it a chance. Maybe it can make you better."

"I disgust you. Not once have you used my name." There was a gleam in the Master's eyes that made the Doctor wary again. "You're ashamed to say it."

The Doctor tried not to make a face. "That's not true. Come on, Master. Let's try this again."

*

It sort of went better from there on. True, the Master might have (not so accidentally) introduced the Aztecs to human sacrifice, but otherwise he had been on his best behaviour. They had visited Zazz, the planet of jazz-loving humans and taken a trip back in time to visit the painter Mark Rothko (who found himself quite inspired by the mind of the Master). At one point the Doctor had convinced the Master to see a therapist in New New York, with bad results for the therapist. They drank themselves stupid instead and spent the next day in the TARDIS, moaning and complaining.

The Doctor did of course have no idea that, while they travelled, the Master had composed a list of his thousand favourite ways to kill off the Doctor, but it was the thought that counted. The Master couldn't deny that he was somewhat fun to have around, even if he was a stick in the mud.

They had just escaped a raging mob of were-wasps on one of Saturn's moonlets in the year eleven thousand. They slammed the door of the TARDIS behind them, panting and laughing with the adrenaline rush.

"Where to next?" the Master asked. He was happy because he'd been allowed to shoot down a couple of tens of them.

"I hear Paris is nice this time of the year," the Doctor said. He was already running over to the control panel to take them off the moonlet. "Allons-y!"

"I want to drive," the Master said, throwing himself at the panel. "It's my turn. You never let me drive."

"And there's a reason for that, leave my TARDIS alone," the Doctor insisted. He was trying to fly the thing with both hands while pushing the Master away with one foot.

"I'm a better driver than you," the Master insisted, pulling random levers and knobs just to piss the man off.

"Stop that!"

Alarms were ringing through the ship and it was shaking like mad. Neither knowing what had happened, the TARDIS suddenly span around like mad and threw them all over the place. Lights were blinking and it seemed like everything that possibly could go wrong was going wrong.

When they finally went still, they felt as if they'd been turned inside out and back again. Slumped against the walls, it took a moment before either managed to get up.

"Your ship is crap," the Master grumbled.

"She's a fine old girl. You're the one who shouldn't be driving," the Doctor told him. He leaned onto the control panel to check where they were. "Don't say anything bad about her."

The Master picked himself up and straightened his suit. "Where did we land?"

"Oh no. Not again," the Doctor groaned at the screen. "This is bad. This is really bad."

"What is?" The Master pushed the Doctor out of the way so he could read off the screen. "We broke into a parallel dimension?"

They exchanged looks. They both knew that this was bad, but something else caught their attention. The coordinates they were at. Without another word, they stormed to the door as one to have a look outside.

The TARDIS was slowly orbiting a shining amber planet. It was more glorious than what either of them had seen in a very, very long time. They looked at each other, all differences set aside in an instant.

"We shouldn't be here," the Doctor said slowly.

"But Doctor, that's..."

"..."

They both turned around and went back to the control panel. Together they took the TARDIS down and they fought each other to be the first one outside. They stumbled out over deep red grass and fell in a speechless heap of awe. The familiar smells filled their nostrils and the sight of the burnt orange sky made them weep.

"It's here, it's all here," the Doctor exclaimed. "Look!" He pointed to the trees, with silver leaves that reflected the burning sky as if they were on fire. Mountains topped with shining white snow. It hurt so much to see it all again, but neither would have given this up for anything in any world.

The Master grabbed the Doctor and held onto him in what might have resembled a hug.

"This shouldn't even be possible," he said in a choked voice. It was possible that he meant it as thanks, and the Doctor hugged him back, feeling numb.

"It's even better than I remembered it."

They had punched a hole in the universe, but they didn't care. Now they were running over blood red meadows, breathing in the air of their childhood and rolling in the grass. The idea of actually meeting people seemed too scary a prospect at first. Their families might be alive. After a while the suspense was simply too much. The Doctor was still not letting the Master out of his sight, and so they went together.

"We only watch from a distance. Listen, look, but don't get involved," the Doctor insisted. "We don't belong here. We have to go back, so don't get involved."

"Why can't we stay? This is all we ever wanted," the Master complained. "Even if there's another one of me and you, what are the chances they will be around? I'll be off wrecking havoc somewhere and you'll be exploring planets together with your harlots."

"We'll see."

In fact, it didn't take long before the Master was proven wrong. The Doctor had taken them down not far from where they used to live, where they still lived. The Doctor could see his house, halfway up the side of a mountain and he held the Master back as he spotted a figure running down towards the fields. Not yet old enough to be off with a TARDIS of his own but already a young man, it was no one but the Doctor himself running down the side of that mountain.

Down in the field, someone was waiting for him. A boy on his own age, who was almost tackled to the ground as the Doctor reached him.

"That's—"

"They won't recognize us," the actual Doctor said. They watched the younger versions of themselves run off together. They both knew what the other was thinking, and so they followed after.

"They will know we are Time Lords," the Master pointed out.

"And there is nothing _but_ Time Lords around."

They couldn't help a moment of glee when they reminded themselves of that. This was home. Not their home, per say, but as close as they would ever come. The Time War had spanned across four dimensions. They were all too lucky in finding this place.

Venturing in between the trees, they stayed close enough to listen to the chatter of their other selves, but stayed out of sight. It was no doubt them, but they realized that the Master wasn't called by that name in this world. The Doctor kept referring to him as the Architect. Here, he was not a man of destruction or control. He was a man of creation.

The Doctor was watching this and marvelling. How different things could have turned out. Here they were, alive and fine on their home planet, talking about all the adventures they would have together. Not a care in the world. Once they were convinced no one was watching, the young Master grabbed the Doctor by his hand, and they kept walking like that.

The actual Doctor turned to see the reaction of the Master, but found that he had turned around and headed back for the TARDIS. The Doctor hesitated, but then he turned around as well. He couldn't let the Master be off on his own. It would be catastrophic.

He caught up with the Master out on the field and was relieved to see that he hadn't run off. The Master was on his knees, feeling the grass between his fingers. The Doctor jogged over to him and kneeled down next to him.

"Hey. What happened back there?" he asked, putting a hand on the Master's back.

"He doesn't hear the drums. Is that what I would have been like if I couldn't hear the drums? He can't hear them. He can't possibly be hearing them."

The Master appeared to be in shock. The Doctor pulled him into his arms in an effort to calm him down.

"Should we go back?" he asked, as much as he hated the idea of leaving so soon.

"No. No! Not yet. Please, not yet," the Master groaned against the Doctor's chest.

"How about this; we stay till the evening. Go into the city, visit all our favourite places. That'll be a treat, eh?" He was desperately trying to cheer the Master up, if only to avoid him doing something stupid. They should at least be doing stupid things together.

He helped the Master to his feet, and together they headed for the city. They knew the way. Everything was as they remembered, fuzzy as their memories were by now. It all came back to them as they walked down familiar streets and saw familiar faces. Keeping themselves composed was near impossible, and soon they were running around the place like children on a sugar rush.

They hadn't ever grown up. The Doctor could claim he was taking responsibility over the Master all he liked, but that didn't hold any substance. The only thing that had changed with time was that alcohol had been added into the stirring pot of disaster that was them.

They stole themselves some Time Lord robes, went clubbing, climbed famous landmarks and did unmentionable things with a banana. No doubt would they look back at this and think of how they had wasted their one return to Gallifrey, but at the moment they couldn't care less. It was just like old times.

As they stumbled across the meadow towards the TARDIS, both in their stolen robes and utterly high on life, they could see the suns going down. The Doctor was wearing his tie like a bandana and the Master kept tripping up in his far-too-long robe. He had grabbed onto the Doctor to keep himself upright and just ended up making them both fall.

Lying in a heap in the deep red grass, they watched the burning light of the sundown dance over the silver forest and the snow-capped mountains. They were grinning like idiots the entire time. Not until it got dark did they sober up a little, knowing they would have to go back.

"Another day wouldn't hurt," the Master muttered.

"I'm afraid it would," the Doctor sighed. He would have been shepherding the other into the TARDIS by now, hadn't he wanted so badly to stay himself.

The Master wasn't able to get up, anyway. He was trapped underneath the Doctor, who was more concerned with taking a last look at their beloved home.

"This has been the best day in a very long time," the Doctor murmured.

"Best day of my life," the Master agreed. He was getting overwhelmed all over again. Everything was okay when they were here. Nothing hurt, except everything hurt but in a good way. This was something he wouldn't have found on his own, without the Doctor. "I still can't believe it's all here."

"It's like something out of a dream."

And they had sort of wasted it on acting like complete morons, but was there really something better to do? They couldn't make a difference to anything. They could only savour this tiny moment they had been given and make the most of it.

The Doctor was torn out of his thoughts when the Master grabbed his head and pulled him down in a fierce kiss. It was full of frustration, desperation and longing. For Gallifrey. The Doctor was far too surprised to really do anything. All he could think of was the two of them, in this world, holding hands.

The Master's hands were in his hair, ruffling it up worse than ever. It was rough and demanding, almost painful, and afterwards he was pushed aside. The Master got up and dusted off his knees.

"TARDIS. Now. Or I'll never be able to leave."

The Doctor looked up at him with utter confusion, but then he picked himself up.

"Yes, you're right. Off we go."

It wasn't at all easy to leave. When they got back into the TARDIS, back to their own dimension, they were once again the Master and the Doctor, with all the differences in the world to keep them apart.

*

_Inducer activated. Inducer transmitting._

They were in the middle of taking down the Adipose. The Master was standing there with his hands full of wire, annoyed that he didn't get to tinker with the glowing, green machine. The Doctor had all the fun. Entertaining as it was to see fat humans turn into little alien fat-babies.

"She started the program." The Doctor sounded mildly panicked.

All over England, a million people were now being dismantled into small, living lumps of fat and the machine that controlled it all had been deadlocked. The fat was waddling through the streets like the most massive migration of penguins.

"Don't _smile_. They're not just losing weight. Skeleton, organs and everything is going to be turned to Adipose," the Doctor hissed at the Master, who was having a hard time standing upright as much as he was shaking with laughter.

"You don't honestly think I am going to help you save the world, do you?" the Master asked. He was working the wires into a very pretty braid.

"A million people are going to die!"

Pulling out the golden locket he had nicked earlier, he dismantled it and started wiring it into the machine. The pill-shaped locket had already proven itself to have an effect on the Adipose.

"This should cancel out the signal," he said to himself, pushing his glasses up for extra mind power.

_Inducer increasing._

"No, no, no!" the Doctor shouted. "She amplified the signal. There's no way to stop it now."

"No way?" the Master mused. "What if you had another locket?"

"There's no time to get another one," the Doctor growled at the machine. "They're all going to die!"

The Master weighed his options, for in his pocket he had one of those lockets as well. He was fidgeting with it, running it through his fingers, thinking. One million people.

"What a shame." It was just far too much fun to watch the Doctor in despair.

The Doctor slammed his fist against the wall, unable to really do much else. The Master gave him a calculated pat on the back. All over Britain, people were dying from the Adipose. Ships were arriving from Adipose 3 to pick up the children.

The Master and the Doctor watched the ships from the roof of the building as the Adipose was beamed up.

"Do we blow them up, then?" the Master asked with hopeful glee.

Crushed as the Doctor was by his defeat, he shook his head. "They can't help where they came from."

"That's so like you," the Master said with scorn, but the Doctor had gotten distracted.

"There she is. Miss Foster!" the Doctor called out as he ran to the edge of the roof. "Listen to me!"

The woman who had created the Adipose and acted as their nanny was being beamed up right in front of them, but was now hanging still in mid-air. She looked at them over the top of her glasses with a disgustingly triumphant smirk.

"Oh, I don't think so, Doctor. If I ever see you again it'll be too soon."

"I am trying to help! Get across to the roof," the Doctor said, waving at her to come closer. "Can you shift the levitation beam?"

"What, so that you can arrest me?" she quipped.

"Look, they know it's a crime, breeding on earth. They aren't going to leave you as a witness."

The Master was in awe at how stupid this woman was. The Doctor and her kept on arguing for a minute or so, up until the ship turned the levitation beam off and let her drop to the asphalt below.

"Why does no one ever listen?" the Doctor groaned.

The Master peeked over the edge of the roof.

"I got a sudden craving for pizza," he remarked.

"Let's just go back to the TARDIS," the Doctor said. Shoulders slumped, he turned around for the stairs. The Master skipped after him, feeling that this had been one of their better days. He'd been hard to get in a good mood after Gallifrey.

The Doctor still hadn't cheered up by the time they were back in the TARDIS. What a bother. The Doctor stood over the control panel, moping. The Master came up behind him and put his hands on the Doctor's waist.

"Oh, cheer up. We'll have a night in. Watch a movie, order pizza. You'll forget all about this in no time."

"One _million_ people," the Doctor reminded him with venom in his voice.

The Master raised his brows and let go. "You can have hot cocoa as well."

The Doctor slipped away from him and slumped on the bottom step of the stairs. "We have a mile long bill from the pizza company already. The pizza boys recognize you by your voice!"

"And they draw straws to see who has to do the delivery. I just love antagonizing them," the Master said. He perched himself on top of the control panel and grabbed the phone. They had galactic pizza delivery on speed dial. "Hello? I wish to order evil pizza."

At least the Doctor appeared to be in a better mood later in the evening, once he'd been given cocoa and a documentary so historically inaccurate that neither could help laughing their asses off. The pizza arrived, and the Master nagged the Doctor until he took a slice.

"Why do you call it 'evil pizza', anyway?" the Doctor asked after one big mouthful. "It's only pepperoni and extra bacon."

"And pineapple. Pineapple is evil," the Master explained. "And one side of the pizza is drugged."

The Doctor froze mid-bite.

"Oh, as if I would," the Master laughed. When the Doctor passed out, he leaned over him with a smirk. "Actually," he whispered. "I would."

With the Doctor knocked out, he leapt from the couch and ran for the control room with all the joy of a five-year-old on Christmas. He didn't know where he wanted to go, but it didn't matter so long as he was driving against the Doctor's will. It occurred to him mid-flight that this might have been a good time to chuck the Doctor out into deep space and leave him to die, but no time for that.

Right as he was about to land, the Doctor stumbled in.

"What are you _thinking_?"

The Master yelped, and maybe he twisted a knob a little too far, for instead of landing the TARDIS, he crashed it right through a wall and knocked them both off their feet.

The Doctor had a major headache from the drugs and the Master was disappointed they hadn't lasted longer. They collected themselves after a moment or so.

"Oh, why did you have to go and do that?" the Doctor asked him, rubbing his head. "For once we were actually having a good time."

"Would you love me if I was any other way?" the Master teased him. He was already going for the door and the Doctor hurried to catch up with him.

They stepped out in a decidedly roman room. Ancient Rome. It was also notoriously luxurious, except for the parts that had been wrecked by the TARDIS.

" _Now_ you've done it," the Doctor scolded.

"I actually think I ran over someone," the Master noted. Indeed, there was a man crushed to death between the wall and the TARDIS.

"This is why I don't let you drive. _Look_ at what you have done!"

"He sort of looks like me," the Master said. "This had better not be symbolical."

There was a clatter of feet out in the hall and the doors burst open for a number of roman soldiers to flock into the room.

"Emperor Caligula! Is everything in order?" one of the men asked. The others were eyeing the strange clothes and the giant blue box with quite a lot of worry.

It took a moment before the Time Lords realized that the soldiers were looking at the Master. Things slowly clicked into place and the Master stepped forth before the Doctor could say anything.

"One of my little games. Now, what have I said about interrupting me? Be off, before I change my mind about letting your interruption go unnoticed."

The soldiers were gone before he could say another word, and the Master was giddy at the prospect of people being frightened of him again. "They think I am Caligula. This is golden!"

"And we are not staying. You just killed the Emperor of Rome."

"You're always the first one to run off and explore. How does a little murder change anything?"

They glared at each other for a good while before anything was said.

"You drugged me!"

"It was the friendly sort of drugging. Come _on_. I could be Caligula," the Master pleaded. He took the Doctor's hands and looked up at him with big eyes. "We killed him before he was supposed to die. There will be a hole in history if we don't fix this. You don't want to tamper with history, do you?"

This was when the Doctor couldn't keep himself from cracking up. If anyone tampered with history, it was him. "Alright. We'll stay. You can't possibly be worse than Caligula. At least if we don't stay for long. I'll find out what year it is, and you put on something more appropriate."

"I could rule Rome in a suit," the Master considered. "But I always looked good in togas."

*

This was something the Doctor would forever regret. Not because the Master was doing a poor job at his role. No, he was far too good. He went down hard on the Senate and the nobles from day one, and he made sure the Doctor could do nothing but watch from the sideline. And while the Doctor couldn't tell from afar, he was sure the Master was pimping out the original Caligula's sisters and getting a little too close to the young Nero than what was really comfortable to think about. It was a disaster.

The palace was turned into a brothel, and when the Master appointed his horse as a priest, the Doctor gave up and went on holiday. At least the Master was following history, so he supposed he wasn't really doing any damage when he was getting people executed for no particular reason. Somehow? It was a bit of a moral dilemma.

They had decided on leaving the day before Caligula's assassination. By then, they had already stayed for far longer than what the Doctor would have liked. The Master was just too satisfied. Back in his suit and waiting outside the TARDIS, he didn't appear interested in leaving at all.

"You had a good time, then?" the Doctor asked. Ancient Rome was always enjoyable, if he just didn't have to worry so much for the Master.

"Oh, you have no idea," the Master said. "I should have been born in this age. You have no idea how much I missed sex, and here I can have it as much as I want and as filthy as I want."

"I really don't want the details," the Doctor assured, hands up in a defensive manner.

"You should live a little yourself," the Master insisted. He grabbed the Doctor and yanked him close with a vicious gleam in his eye.

"Uhm, Master? Day of your assassination tomorrow, remember?"

"The people _love_ me, Doctor. I don't see what your problem is."

The Doctor replied with a yelp as the Master's hands went in places they had no reason to be. When he tried to move away, the Master took his hands and placed them on his own hips.

"You can't possibly say you're not enjoying this?" he asked with a grin. He was drunk on power and sex, and he wanted more.

"What's that in your pocket?" the Doctor asked with a frown.

"I'm just happy to see you."

"Stand still."

The Doctor's hand went down the Master's pocket and pulled out a golden chain. On it was a gold pendant shaped like a pill. The Master quickly gave up on his quest for booty.

"You had this all the time?" the Doctor asked him.

"I forgot."

"One _million people_."

This wouldn't end well, the Master knew. Before the Doctor could stop him, he called out.

"Guards! Guards, come quickly!"

His soldiers stormed in and he pointed to the Doctor.

"Arrest him! Throw him in jail. _Only_ jail," the Master ordered. "I want to deal with him myself."

"What? _What_?"

The Doctor would have rained all sorts of rage on the Master, but he was grabbed by the soldiers and hauled out of the room. The Master felt a little numb. Some time in jail would do the Doctor good, however. He shouldn't feel bad. This was the Doctor, the same man who had foiled his every plan. _He_ was the Master. Caligula. He was in charge.

For some reason it wasn't as much fun, now. The Master was not a happy Caligula, and his displeasure was taken out on the Senate and the rest of the people around him. People were getting killed left and right. Later that day, he had a whole section of the crowd thrown into the arena to be eaten by animals. He was such a passive aggressive person.

Not wanting to let the Doctor get him down, he took the better part of his harem to bed that night. It did wonders for what little conscience he had.

*

The Doctor was, for the infinite time, wondering why he was giving the Master a chance. Every time he wondered about that, he remembered Gallifrey and his thoughts trailed off. The Master needed help. Deep down there was still a decent bone left in him. A tiny voice in the back of the Doctor's head even told him that he should put one there, but that was a thought he quickly dismissed.

He had spent the night in a cold, dark, musty cell, all the while thinking of how to avoid the assassination come the next day. Searching his head for facts, he remembered they had found Caligula's body in the cryptoporticus beneath the imperial palace. He had been stabbed thirty times, much in the same way as Julius Caesar. He winced at the thought of the Master ending up like that. Not that he didn't deserve it.

The rest of the night was spent trying to fish the sonic screwdriver out of his coat. With his hands chained to the wall, that wasn't at all an easy task. He felt just a little proud when he managed to uncuff himself with the screwdriver between his teeth. In addition, the Master wasn't there to comment on what a talented mouth he had.

As he casually snuck his way out of jail, he wondered why the Master hadn't made sure they took his screwdriver. And the key to the TARDIS. In fact, the Master could have done all that while he was knocked out by the drugs. It was all a bit suspicious. He had to remind himself that he was still enraged with the Master, that he had cost the lives of one million people plus Caligula in only one day.

He went for the palace in hopes that the Master was still there and willing to come with him, using the slightly psychic paper to get past the guards. With the Master nowhere to be found, it was time to panic. He hadn't saved him simply to have him be stabbed to death in Ancient Rome.

He made for the underground tunnels with no idea on how he would take down a number of men from the Senate, army and the equestrian order. He trusted himself to come up with something brilliant once he got there.

Except it was already too late. He stopped in his tracks, panting and wheezing. His chest hurt but it didn't even matter, because on the floor of the underground tunnel was a body lying face-down in a pool of its own blood.

"No, no, _no_."

He ran over to the Master's corpse and fell to his knees. Clenching his jaw, he ran his fingers over blood-flecked blond hair.

"No. I'm so sorry. No, no you can _regenerate_. It doesn't have to end like this. We only just started. I was supposed to _fix you_!"

He yelled the last part out at the universe. Again he was the last of the Time Lords.

"Oh my. You really do care. I'm ever so touched."

The Doctor's head snapped up to see the Master standing over him with his arms crossed

"You really didn't think I would be able to avoid such a simple assassination attempt? And this way, history will go as planned. Everything is just peachy."

The Doctor looked down at the dead body on the floor. It wasn't the Master. The similarity was enough to fool the Senate, but the Doctor saw it as soon as he turned the body over.

"Shouldn't you be _happy_ with me for once?" the Master asked.

The Doctor got up and looked at the Master. Just looked at him. He didn't know what to think or feel any more. It always got complicated when he brought people with him. Even with his arch nemesis on board. The man who had just let a million people die had him on his knees and crying over what he had thought was his dead body.

Before he knew it he was hugging the Master as tight as he possibly could. The Master had just gotten to liking it when the Doctor pulled back and slapped him.

" _Ow_! What was that for?"

"You had me arrested!"

"I don't like it when you yell at me," the Master whined while he rubbed his cheek.

"You let a million people die," the Doctor scowled as he pointed one accusing finger. "And then you made me _care_ about you."

"Can we do this later? Before they find out that I am not really dead?"

The Doctor would have given the Master quite an earful, but he noticed that the man actually looked sort of guilty. If only sort of. He would let the lives of a million people go because he thought he was finally getting through to the Master. He felt terrible.

*

They had set the TARDIS to land on a random point in time and space. The Master had spent a long while trying to convince the Doctor that just because they landed somewhere, they didn't necessarily have to explore the place, but the Doctor was just too chipper about randomized time travel.

"It's bloody cold and I hate you," the Master moaned while he hugged himself and tried to keep warm. He was trudging through the snow, already falling behind the Doctor.

"Ah, cheer up. I said you could have put on a coat."

"And throw off my groove? No thank you," the Master hissed through gritted teeth. The bottom of his trousers were soaked through by the snow already. "Where are we even?"

"No idea!" the Doctor said happily. "I think I can see a research facility over that hill."

"Boring," the Master complained. "I'm not going there."

"There's nothing else out here."

"Anything is better than your stupid facility. I'm going back to the TARDIS."

"Where is your sense of curiosity?" the Doctor asked. He kept on walking, but looked back to see the Master flip him off and turn around. Not about to let that get him down, the Doctor concluded that the Master could need some time on his own and walked on.

Somehow, he wasn't worried about the Master taking off with the TARDIS. He had no idea that the Master was about to get himself lost, he just wasn't worried. But the Master did get himself lost.

It took a long row of shenanigans, including the saving of red-eyed Ood, hearing a prophecy and stopping the galactic Ood trade before the Doctor went back to find that the Master was not in the TARDIS.

*

It was nightfall. The Master couldn't remember feeling this much pity for himself. He had been caught in a blizzard and by sheer luck found shelter in a cave. There he was, arms wrapped tightly around himself and shaking. He hated this bloody 'explore the universe' crap. He hated the running, he hated the people and he hated the environments. For a moment he had forgotten why he wanted to take control of it and destroy everyone, but it was coming back to him, with greater force. The drums were beating in his head like mad.

The stupid Doctor never showed up when he actually needed him. Just dragged him places he didn't want to go. Everything had to be on the Doctor's whim. This wasn't about being the last two Time Lords at all; he was just another one of the Doctor's harlots, except _he_ wasn't getting laid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

Hate, hate, hate, hate.

Kill, kill, kill, kill.

The drumming was making more sense than ever. The entrance of the cave was almost snowed shut. The Doctor would never find him like this.

Stupid Doctor, stupid Doctor.

He sneezed and hated on life, going ever so slightly madder in the hours he spent freezing his balls off and listening to the infernal rhythm in his head. Somehow it got terrible when the Doctor wasn't around. He refused to think that the Doctor distracted him from it, or even worse, made it better.

Sniffling and sneezing, he let his self-pity lull him to sleep along with the sound of the howling wind outside. He was just getting comfortable, feeling warm even, when something violently shook him awake. He responded by punching it, because it was the Doctor who had sorely neglected him the entire day.

"Where were you?" he screamed at him. "And what's with that horrible wakeup-call?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," the Doctor said. He had avoided the punch by a hair and now he was feeling the Master's hands. He tried to rub some warmth back into them. "I had to save some Ood."

"Ood?"

"Ood."

The Master sneezed. "Hate Ood."

"No harsh words against Ood. Ood is good. Love an Ood. Come here."

"They took you away from me," the Master said, but he interrupted himself with another sneeze.

The Doctor looked down at him sideways, but decided not to say anything. He made a huge effort to pick the Master up into his arms and ended up half carrying him, half dragging him back to the TARDIS.

The Master was being decidedly pouty and bratty the entire time as the Doctor drew him a bath before tucking him into bed. He'd even made him wear pyjamas. It was so domestic it made the Master wonder if it really was the Doctor who had rescued him, and not some evil clone from planet bizarro. There had to be a planet like that _somewhere_ out in space. There was even a planet for bloody jazz-lovers, damn it.

"I made you soup," the Doctor said as he entered with a tray and put it down across the Master's lap.

"Ood baby soup!"

"Those are noodles."

The Master sent him a look of immense dissatisfaction.

"And I'm going to read to you", the Doctor continued.

"No you are so not!"

"Oh yes I am."

"You're enjoying this," the Master said before he was hit by an extra violent sneeze. The Doctor patted the top of his head.

"As a matter of fact, yes I am. Eat your soup."

"You're a terrible cook and I hate you."

"The more you say that, the more I'm starting to think you're warming up to me."

The Doctor looked positively cheeky and the Master folded his arms over his chest, went all pouty again and looked away.

"Oh, but you'll love this. I have all these brilliant children's stories that you probably know. Remember the Three Old Sontarans? And the Emperor Dalek's New Clothes was one of your favourites. You kept teasing them about that one, good old you. Probably why teaming up with the Daleks never worked out for you, though."

"Please shut your happy-go-lucky face now."

"I've gotten some new ones you might like. You might find some of them were inspired by our adventures."

"Really?" the Master asked, looking up again.

"The Time Lord Who Cried Drums, ever heard of that?"

"You're _trying_ to torture me!" the Master shouted while the Doctor flipped through the books. "Ooh, There Is an Old Man in a Blue Box sounds like a good one. Something I can relate to."

The Doctor flipped past that one nonchalantly. "Let's read something on neutral ground, hm?" He opened up a book entitled 'Where's My Mummy'.

"I will throw something at you," the Master warned.

"'Where is my mummy?'", the Doctor began reading. "'Is this my mummy? It goes "Go back to your room!" It is the Doctor.'"

A spoon barely grazed the Doctor's ear as it flew by. He read on.

"'Is this my mummy? It goes "If it's alien, it's ours." It's Torchwood London.'"

A glass of water shattered against the far wall.

"'Is this my mummy? It goes "Exterminate!" It's—'"

Soup exterminated the rest of the page as the Master reached the peak of his destruction, and then the empty plate was shattered against the floor.

"That's just childish," the Doctor chided him. "It's a good story. Now you'll never find out who the kid's real mummy is."

"Don't care."

"You're impossible."

"It's my thing."

The two glared at each other with a passion. It went on for a whole minute until the Master sneezed again. This was going to be a few very long days with a very whiny Master in constant demand of hot cocoa and warm blankets, and absolute monarchy on the TV remote.

He sat on the couch for what seemed like forever, and the Doctor grew bored and went off on some solo trips. It was all good and well up until a very sad situation in Pompeii where he had been forced to choose between the deaths of a few and the deaths of everyone. Choices like that would one day kill him, but no one else could make them.

He got back to find the Master opening a bottle of whiskey. It was a bad combination before they had even started.

"Rough day?" the Master asked while he watched the Doctor down his first drink with interest.

"You have no idea. Then again, you'd probably have enjoyed it." Sick, insane man. The Doctor felt sorry for himself right then, being stuck in the company of a psychotic sociopath.

In fact, they were both feeling pathetically sorry for themselves, and they watched trash on the telly while quickly getting drunk. It wasn't long before the Doctor went on a long rant about Pompeii, about how it was supposed to be a fixed point in time but he had no idea he was the one who flooded the city with lava.

"I didn't know what to do. I shouldn't even have stayed," he complained. "But you know what I'm like."

"Can't keep your big nose out of anything, can you? Always forget to set your watch for volcano-day," the Master said with a reassuring pat on the Doctor's shoulder. The Doctor sniffed. "It's a pretty nose, though," the Master assured.

"I keep ending up in situations like that. I save a lot of people, but I've killed so many. _Broken_ so many."

The Master was growing bored with the pity party. He finished his drink and took the Doctor by his chin, tsking.

"You poor you. No doctors to help the Doctor. Let Master make it better. Come here, you."

He pulled the Doctor into a kiss. It wasn't a suggestion; they were making out whether the Doctor wanted them to or not. Alcohol didn't exactly make the Master any tenderer, and the Doctor was trapped in his arms with no will to try and get away. After a while he was even kissing back, clutching at the Master's hair and letting himself lose.

He should have been disgusted, but for once, someone else was willing to take charge. Right then, it was a good feeling. Even if the Master was getting way too touchy-feely with his hands. He was supposed to be a friend, and it was all getting complicated. Complicated was not good. Complicated was in the process of groping him through his pants and slipping a hand up under his shirt. Complicated was shoving its tongue down his throat and making him moan.

He reminded himself that the Master was his arch enemy, and a very far way from being rehabilitated. Still murderous, still mean, still psychotic, and also a bloody good kisser. It was only when they broke apart for air that the Doctor tried to stop him. It didn't really do any good. He opened his mouth to protest, but they were already clashing together again.

The Master wasn't letting him ruin a good snog. He held the Doctor down and felt him up while more or less raping his mouth to the best of his abilities. Being violent about it sort of made it okay. No way could he forgive himself for handling the Doctor nicely. He was only taking advantage of the situation, nothing more.

He moved down the Doctor's neck, kissing, nipping and biting until he found delicious collarbone. Too late did he realize what a mistake it was to leave the Doctor's mouth free.

"Stop," the Doctor groaned.

"Tease." The Master didn't want to stop. He bit down viciously on the Doctor's neck.

" _Ow_."

"When you say things I don't like, I bite," the Master warned him. That, and he liked biting. After ripping the Doctor's jacket and shirt open, he helped himself to a serving of his chest. While he licked and sucked on everything he could reach, his hands went down the Doctor's trousers.

There was another unwilling noise of approval from the Doctor before he surprised the Master by pulling his head back up close and kissing him again. If only to avoid any more bites to his nipples. They tore at each other's clothes and tangled themselves together in a fight for dominance, but no one was really winning. They ended up grinding together half-naked, touching and groping feverishly while they tried to get off.

"My name, say it, damn you," the Master panted. He hissed at the ceiling as the Doctor sucked at his neck.

"Master," the Doctor gasped against wet skin.

"Louder!"

There was no one to hear the racket they made inside the TARDIS. Slick with perspiration and heat, neither lasted very long. It felt rather chaste and awkward. The Doctor wasn't used to this and the Master didn't quite know what to do with him. When they stumbled through the control room in hopes of finding their respective beds, he wasn't by far satisfied. What happened next was the Doctor's fault for stopping to say goodnight.

"We should probably never even mention that again," the Doctor muttered. "We have far too much history already."

"You are probably right," the Master agreed. They had fought each other for centuries. Even if a lot of it was vague and didn't feel important at this point, too much had happened between them to simply forget.

It wasn't like he even wanted to fuck the Doctor. He'd been disgusted by the man's morals and do-goodery since the beginning. It was just because he was the only one there. Two people trapped together in a box were bound to do things like this _eventually_ , whether they liked each other or not.

The Doctor was thinking much of the same. There were so many people, so many of his companions, who he'd rather be with. If there was even one redeeming or attractive feature about the Master, it was that he too was a Time Lord. He wouldn't die of old age. In his case, the Doctor wasn't sure it was a positive point. Being stuck with him for eternity would drive him insane.

Still, it was only a matter of seconds before they were locked in another frenzied kiss. The Master backed the Doctor against the dashboard and pulled his trousers down again. The Doctor was pinned down and didn't for a second care about the various instruments pressing against his back. He was far more concerned about the Master's intensions.

"What are you—?"

"Shut up. You'll love me," the Master insisted. He silenced the Doctor with a rough kiss while he forced his legs apart. He pushed his fingers into him and when the Doctor complained, he bit him. It wasn't kind or careful in any way, but the Master made it just enjoyable enough not to be pushed off. It was a fine line, though the Doctor was starting to see why the Master's wife shot him.

The Master turned him around and bent him over the TARDIS control panel. It was hard to find any place where he could support his hands, but it didn't really matter. The Master's hands were on his hips, keeping him in place. He wanted to protest, but the only noise that escaped him was a moan as he was entered. It was surreal, because never in his life had he imagined them getting to this point. It hurt and it wasn't right at all.

*

Come morning and a massive hangover, the Doctor wouldn't have remembered much if it wasn't for the fact that he was slumped by the TARDIS control panel with his trousers around his ankles and one hand cuffed to one of the instruments. He was also incredibly sore. Not just in certain places, but all over. Bite-marks, scratches and bruises covered him, and the Master was nowhere to be seen.

He was never drinking again, and this time it was going to take. Out of all the immense, painful and destructive mistakes he had made throughout his life, this was by far the greatest. He didn't even want to think about it.

By the time the Master came around and had a mind to unlock him, he was not a happy Doctor by far. At least his trousers were back on. The Master was about to say something, but the Doctor cut him short.

"We are _never_ talking about this. This never happened, and we are never drinking together ever again. You, me, alcohol; not even on the same planet. Is that clear?"

The Master frowned at him, and it took a moment before he said anything at all.

"Where do we go next?" was all he asked.

The Doctor was relieved that the Master had gotten the point.

"Take us down somewhere random. I'm having a shower."

The Master rolled his eyes and let the Doctor go. In all honestly, he was fighting the meanest, most vile grin.

Things didn't go all too sour between them after that, surprisingly enough. The Doctor was the master of ignoring what he didn't want in his life, no pun intended. They were soon out there among the stars once more, with the Doctor trying to direct the Master's destructivity into something positive. It was easier said than done.

After the Master had accidentally (or so he claimed) wiped out all forms of life on a distant but tiny moon and thrown the Doctor into another fit, they returned to Earth only to find the place getting invaded by Sontarans.

While the Master was complaining about never wanting to see one of those walking, mutated potatoes ever again, they were far more successful this time around. Mainly because the Master managed to hack the ATMOS software and close down the entire business before they had even gotten started. The Master remained convinced that he had done something evil. The Doctor didn't have the hearts to break it to him that he had assisted in saving the world.

After that they went back in time, and the Master visited Francis Bacon. The Doctor made a point of staying in the TARDIS while the Master went partying and drinking with middle-aged, alcoholised painters. Making up for this not-so-elegant visit, the Doctor decided where they went next. He got to geek out over Agatha Christie and solved a case of giant alien wasps together with her. While this went down, the Master tried to get it on with some of the locals.

Everything was going much better, even after the Master released an alien parasite that distorted time onto Earth, but that was all in a day's work. The Master put them one step back, the Doctor got them another ten steps ahead.

*

"John, when you look out of the window, what do you see?"

John lowered his newspaper enough to shoot Sherlock a suspicious look. "Our street, I suppose?"

Sherlock was standing by the window. Couldn't be murder, then. If someone had been murdered at their doorstep, the man would be jumping with delight.

"I mean it. I need you to look out of the window."

John sighed and pushed himself out of his chair to have a look. What he saw was surprising. It wasn't one of those little things that normal people didn't think twice about, where Sherlock would go on for lengths about how someone was definitely up to no good. No, this was a lot bigger.

"A... A blue police box. Those haven't been around since the sixties."

"Oh, use your eyes, John. It's obviously not a real police box. The windows are wrong and the phone is clearly not connected."

"And how do you know that?" Watson asked to humour him, but Sherlock was already on his way out the door.

"Get all the material you can find on teleportation and meet me downstairs in ten minutes."

The police box was a bright speck of blue in the otherwise white and grey winter London. It had been snowing yesterday and there weren't many tracks by far. It was a good tone of blue, they couldn't deny that.

"Why teleportation?" Watson asked as he jogged after Sherlock.

"I would consider time travel going by the exterior, but anyone can make a replica of a police box. Let's not look at hoof prints and suggest zebra before we have at least taken a closer look."

He started circling the box, looking it up and down. John was wondering whether Sherlock had gone slightly madder, but the blue box was a mystery.

"Prints, John. That's exactly what doesn't exist anywhere near the box. There would have been tracks in the snow. Then how did it get here? Airlifted in with a crane or helicopter? Too much effort with no obvious gain. Highly unlikely, not to mention we would have heard. Or at least I would have, which makes materializing out of thin air the least improbable solution."

"Out of...?"

"Thin air, John. Do try to pay attention."

The doors flew open and two men appeared, not at all paying attention to their surroundings.

"See, I remembered to take the breaks off," the Master said proudly.

"You're not flying again. I like the noise it makes," the Doctor sulked, until he noticed the tall, eccentric man who was standing right in front of them.

"Explain," Sherlock demanded. "How did you do it and how is it possible that..." He took another look just to be completely sure. "That the inside of your box is bigger than the outside?"

The Doctor and the Master exchanged looks.

"We are illusionists," the Doctor said.

"Touring illusionists," the Master agreed.

"The best. Look, we are licensed." The Doctor flipped out the psychic paper.

Sherlock looked at it, then slowly glanced sideways at Watson. "What do _you_ think, John?"

"It looks more probable than teleportation?" John tried. "They have a license."

"Except that the paper is blank."

The Doctor straightened his glasses in preparation for a lot of trouble.

"That's the illusion," the Doctor assured. "And you're obviously too smart for it. Well done. I applaud you. Be on your way."

"Highly unlikely. If it was an illusion, I would already have worked out how you made your box materialize."

The Doctor's face fell into a frown and he pushed the psychic paper into the Master's hand and drew himself up to his full height. "Alright then, mister too-smart-for-slightly-psychic-paper. Maybe you just don't understand everything."

"Everything of importance. On Earth," Sherlock said testily.

"Oh, sure. Quite the Sherlock Holmes you are."

A smile quirked at Sherlock's lips. "Then I am sure you won't mind if I examine your box closer."

He pushed past them and was inside the TARDIS before anyone could stop him. The Doctor and the Master exchanged looks.

"That was the actual Sherlock Holmes, wasn't it?" the Master remarked.

"Wrong time zone. Can't be."

"The parasite we are chasing has a slight control over time," the Master reminded.

"True," the Doctor said, stroking his chin as he considered the possibilities. "Yes, yes it could technically move someone, or even a chunk of history from the 19th century to... Excuse me, when are we and where is this?" he asked John, who had given up on the situation altogether.

"England, London, Baker Street. Earth," John said with a sigh. "Early 21st century," he added in.

"Good man," the Doctor said. He patted John's shoulder and went after Sherlock.

"This is fantastic!" a faint shout sounded from inside the TARDIS. Hard to tell whether it was Sherlock or the Doctor.

It was the Master and John's turn to exchange looks, but it was more awkward than anything.

"John Watson, I suppose?"

"Yes. And you are?"

"The Master."

It all got very complicated from thereon out. First it was the whole "I'm the Doctor. Just Doctor. No, people only call me the Doctor, I don't have any other name to give you and I am not from around here. Doesn't matter where, just nowhere around." This was followed by John lecturing Sherlock on not taking other people's things apart. It wasn't too much of a problem as the sonic screwdriver repaired itself.

"Marvellous," Sherlock remarked. He started to disassemble it again just to be sure he had done it properly the first time around. The Doctor didn't mind, because he was practically giddy to meet Sherlock Holmes, even if he was more of an Agatha Christie fan.

While Sherlock examined the interior of the TARDIS and the Doctor geeked out over him, the Master sulked in a corner and didn't really answer any of John's questions.

"Could I at least have another look at the psychic paper, then?" John asked. He had already tried all the obvious questions, like "Are you from another time?" and "Is this alien technology?" or "Are you from Torchwood?" Now he was trying to save his pride.

"It's not mine," the Master said, so he dangled it in front of John's face and let him take it.

"That's odd," John remarked after taking another look at it. "This says you are the Queen of Belgium."

The Doctor was not far away from them, and he spluttered. The Master just shrugged, as he didn't get the reference.

"Are there a lot of people who aren't fooled by the paper?" John pressed.

"I'm sorry," the Master said, grabbing a chair. "I need to destroy something before I go mad."

He smashed it into the dashboard of the TARDIS and sparks flew before the entire ship powered down.

"Spoilsport," Sherlock muttered.

"You broke my TARDIS! See why I don't let you fly if I can help it?" the Doctor asked, running over to assess the damage.

"It will fix itself. Now can we please remember that we were going somewhere? There was a parasite, and this is the 21st century. There are bars and strip clubs and I'm stuck with the three people I am least likely to have sex with."

He stomped out of the TARDIS, dragging the chair behind him.

"Sorry about him," the Doctor said without taking his eyes off the vanishing figure. "He's a bit... psychotic."

"Sounds like he and Sherlock would get off alright," John said, clearing his throat.

"You know I consider myself married to my work," Sherlock said without an afterthought. He was trying to piece the sonic screwdriver together in the dark, but it had a terrible habit of fixing itself faster than he could put it together.

"Ah, so you're not...? Been reading too much between the lines I suppose," the Doctor said. He was swinging idly back and forth with his hands in his pockets.

"Why does everyone think we're dating?" John muttered between gritted teeth.

"That's obvious, but you're not noticing," the Doctor said, bemused. "Of course, those who need to notice are never the ones to notice, and then they miss out. Pity." He clapped his hands together and strode for the door. "Now, we should find the Master before he sets the city on fire. Love London, would be a shame really."

Sherlock and John looked at each other in the dark of the TARDIS.

"You're going after him," John remarked.

"The time machine has powered down. Since I can't make an attempt at piloting it, yes. Yes, we are going after him."

"Certain it's a time machine?" John asked. Strange things happened, but time travel was a concept he had yet to believe in.

"Half certain," Sherlock told him.

"Half?"

"I am suspecting it might not be limited to travelling in time, but I require more data before I can make any conclusion."

They ran after the Doctor, having gotten used to their own fair share of running since they started working together.

*

Searching for the time-warping parasite was sort of forgotten. So was finding the Master. He would be happy for some time on his own; the Doctor wasn't feeling bad for running around with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, getting himself tangled in their work to a point where Sherlock wasn't sure whether he wanted to throw the Doctor out or dissect him. Dissecting him was a good option, because the more time they spent with him, the more obvious it was that he wasn't from Earth.

It was days later that they happened to run into what the police referred to as a terrorist attack, where several people had been fried to a crisp. Good that the case was quickly closed, because they were in the middle of something else.

"What? I made myself a new laser screwdriver. I _had_ to take it for a test drive," the Master protested as they dragged him away from the scene. The Doctor insisted that they didn't report him. He was under rehabilitation already and had a personal Doctor seeing to his ailments.

"Can I at least keep the screwdriver?"

"That depends on who you are going to kill with it. And don't make me old again," the Doctor warned him.

"The English government is on the top of my blacklist right now."

" _Now_ I remember. I knew I had seen you before," John interrupted. "You are that Harold Saxon bloke. You ran for Prime Minister a while back. And here Sherlock thought you were aliens. Fancy that, Sherlock? Aliens in our government?"

"It's more likely than you think," the Doctor muttered under his breath.

The Master sighed. "I miss being Prime Minister. Those were the days. I had you on a leash."

"But you weren't ever elected," John pointed out, confused.

"Oh, but I was. It was a glorious reign, but the Doctor didn't approve of my turning the majority of Earth into a battle fleet with intentions of taking over the universe. He broke my paradox machine made all of reality reset, like it never happened." He sniffed.

John closed his mouth and tried to lose the look of surprise. "I voted for you!"

"Just what I needed. A bloody fan. What about you, Sherlock?"

"Hm? There was an election?"

"He doesn't watch TV," John explained.

"But I had pretty posters everywhere," the Master complained. "And would anyone mind telling me where we are going?"

He wasn't exactly pleased to hear that they were on their way to the National Antiquities Museum. The Doctor was all excited about it. The Master perked up when he heard that there was a murderer on the loose who left messages in a strange language. A language that was giving even the TARDIS a hard time translating, which probably meant it wasn't a language at all, and rather a code, so the Time Lords kept their mouths shut and stayed on the sideline.

They surprised their soon-to-be-murder victim, Soo Lin Yao at the museum at night. She had used to look after some ancient ceramic teapots that were her sole joy in life, and somehow restoring them was more important than hiding from her assassin. Good for them, at any rate. She knew the code and could translate it.

The Master grew bored. He was twirling his brand new laser screwdriver in his hand when he remembered something.

"Doctor, I didn't show you yet. I improved upon the design. Never had time to make it isomorphic, but I have something far better this time around."

"We're sort of in the middle of something," the Doctor said. The less the Master used that thing, the better in his opinion. He still hadn't decided on whether to let him keep it or not.

"But look! It has a dehumidifying setting now. See." The Master pointed it at one of the teapots, which went grey and crumbled in an instant. "Deadly dehumidifying."

The Doctor felt Sherlock's sharp eyes on him, and John's as well when the girl's eyes watered up and she started shaking with sobs.

"What? What did I do?" the Master asked. "She's getting all leaky."

Sherlock shook his head. "Centuries old," he tsked.

"You can always glue it back together," the Master suggested.

This was when the assassin decided to make his appearance, and chaos ensued. Everyone but the Master was running out of the room in an attempt at catching him, except for John, who was really just worried about Sherlock. The Master occupied himself with juggling his screwdriver and not really paying attention. When he had a mind to look over his shoulder, the girl was lying dead on the table.

*

The Doctor was actually angry with him. The Master couldn't understand how this was anything different from the things he had done in the past, but the two of them were soon put to work. Sherlock and John had collected all the books of two previous murder victims, and the hope was that they would break the code by finding the right book, one they both owned. If there was one thing the boys from Gallifrey could to better than any human, it was reading. Among everything else.

"Definitely alien," John said quietly to Sherlock as they watched the two leaf through every book at far beyond superhuman speed and trying to make sense of the code.

"Shush, John. This is a very important moment for me; I am having my very own first-hand experience of jealousy," Sherlock told him.

John raised his brows at him. "And how does it feel?"

"Disgusting. Let's go out for dinner."

"I knew they were gay for each other," the Master muttered to the Doctor.

"Don't give them ideas," the Doctor warned. "We don't want another situation like with the Aztecs."

"You think they could get that rough?"

"It's not a date!" John exclaimed before the two were out the door. He put his hat on, descending the stairs right after Sherlock. "Why does everyone have to be so presumptuous?"

"Because people are and always will be, John. Have I taught you nothing?"

"Are we sure that they are... You know?"

Sherlock sent him a look of disapproval. "I never thought of you as racist. Aliens are people too."

"They look like us, though. Are they in disguise maybe?" John suggested. He was having a hard time deciding whether he even wanted to believe any of this.

"They might be aliens that look like us. Or maybe we look like them, who knows? I don't. You know how far my interest in space goes."

"Nowhere?"

"Exactly. But from what I deduce, they seem quite comfortable with who they are and the people around them. Either they look like us, or they are used to humans and _very_ good at creating disguises they feel at home in."

John supposed this made sense. Count on Sherlock to be logical about aliens in a blue box. Worst of all, even aliens thought they were dating. Something about what the Doctor had said was at the back of his mind, but he thought no more of it.

"Do you think it's true? What they said about aliens in the British government?"

"It wouldn't surprise me. Nothing ever seems to," Sherlock said. The Doctor had made him think, though. Not that he didn't think at all times, but he was thinking about different things, things that weren't all about work.

*

The case was solved, but they still had the parasite to look for. With the TARDIS still rebuilding, John offered to let them stay without really thinking. Sherlock was the epitome of disapproval, but the Doctor accepted happily without hesitation. He was, by far, the only one who didn't mind how cramped the apartment became. Until he found out he had to share room with the Master. They took John's room while John slept on the couch. Sherlock wouldn't budge on this arrangement.

While Sherlock waited about for interesting cases, the Doctor and the Master chased an alien parasite up and down London. He observed, not one to run about unless there was something in it for him. An alien parasite was none of his concern. No, he was more interested the alien technology.

The Doctor was just on his way out that day when he saw what Sherlock was doing.

"What? No, no! Really?"

He put his glasses on and had a look at what the man was making at the kitchen table. Sherlock didn't spare him a glance, but tested his own sonic screwdriver. It didn't make quite the right noise yet. It needed some fine-tuning.

"Marvellous technology you have. This is a challenge even for me," Sherlock said. And challenges made him smile. "Still, after taking it apart I can recreate most of its functions."

"Oh no," the Doctor warned him. "No, you're not having that. That doesn't belong to your time _or_ your race. That's a Time Lord implement and you shouldn't know anything about that."

"Time Lord you say? A bit pretentious, even for you, Doctor." Sherlock was having far too much fun with this. "I tell you what," he said, putting the screwdriver down. "Let me examine you and maybe I will not make use of your very poorly protected technology."

"Oh, come on. There's nothing all that interesting about us. Only difference you'll notice is that Master and I both have two hearts."

"Now, that is something I'd like a closer look at."

"Screwdriver. Now," the Doctor said, holding his hand out. "Come on, come on. Not waiting around all day, you're a smart kid, you know about time paradoxes."

Frowning, Sherlock handed the screwdriver over.

"And don't even think about making another one," the Doctor said before he was on his way.

Not at all happy with the Doctor, Sherlock joined John in the sitting room and started plunking at his violin. He couldn't be bothered to actually play. When did he ever?

"They are bossy and insane. Just like you," John commented over his book.

"Is that what I am like?" Sherlock asked with a shudder. "Fascinating but despicable?"

"About, yes," John said with a nod. "And here I thought you didn't have any insight into yourself."

"I do, I just don't care what people think," Sherlock muttered. He glanced out the window to see the pair run down the street, looking perfectly mismatched in their odd outfits. "What is _with_ the sneakers?" His violin made a decidedly sharp and unpleasant noise that made John wince.

"Will you _play_ that thing or put it down?"

Sherlock looked at him. Just _looked_ at him in that way of his, and yet it was somehow like he was seeing him for the first time. John felt his skin crawl.

"I... Never mind the violin. I'm used to it by now," John muttered and disappeared behind his book.

*

They had run all over the city with a device that bleeped and had a spinning little dish on it. They knew the parasite was still somewhere in this place and age, but it was a small being that was hard to find. It was vital that they got hold of it before it made another time distortion and vanished again. Currently on coffee break, the two made an attempt at catching their breaths and their body heat at a small café.

"That thing... More obnoxious than the Daleks. At least you can catch those, if you really want to," the Doctor panted.

"But you wouldn't want to. The key is to not be looking for it, and you'll find anything," the Master said in an agreeing voice.

"Couldn't have said it better myself."

They went silent. It had been an awkward few days. Neither wanted to sleep in the same bed and the Master refused to sleep on the floor. The result was that the Doctor had massive pains in his back.

"When we catch that parasite, there is no way of resetting time without making this Sherlock Holmes and John Watson disappear," he murmured.

It was a bit of a downer for them both. Even the Master had grown a bit fond of the quirky couple. He liked how Sherlock played the violin.

"You know, if you just let me cannibalize the TARDIS again, we could make a paradox and they could... Or they couldn't. Your call." The Master had noticed the look that the Doctor gave him and he didn't want to press the matter further. He shouldn't have reminded the Doctor of what he had done altogether. "You do not cannibalize the TARDIS," had the Doctor screamed at him an entire evening when he last came to mention it.

They stared off into space, out the windows, anything to avoid the giant elephant that was slowly entering the room. In the meantime, their coffee arrived and they got something else to occupy themselves with.

"Remember I said I wanted to talk to you? Before you enslaved us all, took over the Earth and got shot?"

"I remember," the Master said testily. "And no, I am not talking to you. I know what you are going to say, and you are just being a sappy, weak-hearted twat."

"I know you're not bad all the way down."

"Shut up!" the Master yelled and he clamped his hands over his ears. They got quite a few stares.

"Fine, fine, I won't say it," the Doctor promised him. "Not yet, anyway. There will come a day when you'll want to be forgiven."

The Master hissed at the Doctor like an angry cat. The Doctor knew he was fully capable of biting and clawing, so he left it at that. He sent him lecturing glances over the rim of his glasses, though.

*

Back in Baker Street, the atmosphere was tense. John was on one side of the room, being polite and trying to read, while Sherlock was being moody and noisy with his violin. He stared off out the window, watching the blue box get covered in a fine layer of fresh snow.

"They aren't all that bright, are they?" Sherlock muttered to himself. "Way above average in intelligence, but lacks the ability to follow their own advice."

"What are you talking about?" John asked while keeping his eyes fixed on the sentence he had now reread about fifteen times.

"Oh, the whole missing out and that," Sherlock sighed. He stretched out, letting the violin slip down the side of the chair to rest on the floor.

John had no response to that. He watched Sherlock under the pretence of awaiting more monologue.

"The Doctor," Sherlock emphasised, waving the violin's bow about. "He has made me think a lot about our situation these last few days. I am honestly a little worried."

"Our situation?" John asked, hoping that Sherlock would eventually explain what he was going on about.

"I doubt you even noticed it yourself, but you are also thinking differently about me than you used to," Sherlock said. There was a wry smile on his lips for only a second.

"You can deduce a lot of things, Sherlock, but you are not a mind reader," John reminded him.

"Short quick glances that you are not even thinking twice about. You are worried that I will catch you. You get flustered and sweaty when I am in the room, even fidgety. Your mild discomfort when I am in the room, together with the countless other symptoms I am picking up, suggests you are subconsciously struggling against arousal."

"Sherlock!"

"I am simply telling you what I am observing," Sherlock said sharply, turning to face John. The man was flustered, right on cue. "And I am considering a course of action before this becomes a problem."

Sherlock could invade John's personal space without even getting near him. It was unpleasant. He felt naked and exposed, and that wasn't helping the situation. He took a deep breath, struggling to keep composed.

"What do you consider is the best 'course of action', then?" he asked. He hadn't realized his interest, and now it was painfully obvious. He was angry with Sherlock, but had nothing to call him out on.

"You know I consider myself married to my work," Sherlock reminded him.

John didn't say anything. He had to endure so much humiliation from this man, every day.

"But," Sherlock continued, and now he looked away. He, too, appeared to be ever-so-slightly embarrassed. "An affair would not hurt. A small one. Just to be certain that we are completely incompatible before we put the entire affair on ice. I have calculated its probability of destroying our friendship and it's a relatively low chance. Considering we already act as if we are married, it should make no difference whatsoever. So, what do you think?"

Sherlock at least had the decency to look at John while he awaited reply. John cleared his throat and got up from his chair.

"You, Sherlock Holmes, are the most cold, most calculating man I have ever met."

He didn't say another word and was out of the room before Sherlock could respond. The young man sat there alone with no idea of what he had done wrong, thinking it hadn't been too bad for a first try. Apparently he needed to revise his approach in such situations should one ever arise again. Considering the strange, unpleasant feeling that had just risen inside of him, he didn't think it ever would.

*

They had been out all evening trying to catch the blasted parasite. It was sitting dead on Sherlock and John's kitchen table, looking much like a four-legged spider the size of a hand. Its body glowed a venomous green.

"If we feed its rift energy into the TARDIS, we will reverse all the damage it did," the Doctor explained. The sonic screwdriver soaked up the rift energy like a sponge. "Your chunk of history will be back in its place."

"Were we ever out of it?" John asked. "These are our lives," he insisted. "You can't just... put us somewhere else."

"You won't even notice," he Doctor assured them, but he was feeling a pang of guilt. "You're supposed to be somewhere between the 19th and 20th century."

Sherlock shuddered. "The eighteen hundreds. Absolutely no technology. How could I live there? I wouldn't have my phone."

"You're a very different person, back there. Well, not too different. Still eccentric, still brilliant. Too smart for the people around you, experimenting and—"

"Can I keep these?" the Master interrupted. He had found the jar of human eyes in the microwave. "I mean, if you are going to never have existed in this time period, anyway."

"Take them, go ahead," John was quick to say. "There's a head in the fridge too, if you like."

The Master didn't need any more incentive and went to help himself.

"And eh, Doctor John Watson," the Doctor continued. "Still a military doctor. You two make a brilliant pair, you get famous, you get novels. Not that you won't do that now, but even today no one will have forgotten you. Well, people might have forgotten Lestrade," he added with a shrug.

"Good riddance," Sherlock muttered.

"We don't have a choice in the matter, do we?" John asked.

The Doctor inclined his head, considering. "Well, I could release the rift energy into the open air. Would probably end up in Cardiff or something. Lots of rift activity over there. You'd live on like usual, no harm done to your life. This would become reality. Or it could create a series of paradoxes that tears apart the fabric of the universe."

He hadn't even finished before Sherlock had snatched his screwdriver.

"Oh, no you don't! No one uses that but me," the Doctor protested.

"You should have made it isomorphic," the Master called from the kitchen.

"I am sorry Doctor, as much as I enjoy history, I like my phone more," Sherlock said. He released the rift energy, and they watched the threads of gold spread out and vanish.

"Good choice," the Master said as he popped back in. "In this century, you don't get hanged for having gay sex. Also, I am still taking the eyes, but the head stays. It has green fuzz on it."

The Doctor firmly took his screwdriver back and sent Sherlock a dirty look. It didn't last very long.

"I suppose you will be leaving now," Sherlock said.

"The TARDIS has powered back up, our parasite has been caught. Time to leave," the Doctor said.

John and Sherlock decided on following the Doctor and the Master out to the TARDIS to say their farewells. Hands were shaken, and even the Master participated, jar under one arm.

"Not a bad stay at all. Less boring than it tends to be. You're a funny man, Sherlock Holmes. And your sidekick, too."

"I am not his sidekick," John muttered under his breath.

"Will we be seeing you again?" Sherlock asked with no comment against the sidekick remark.

"Oh yes, invite the aliens back for Christmas or something," John huffed.

"Alright, then. Wouldn't mind a Christmas party," the Doctor replied with a bright grin. "We'll be back next year. Lovely place, London. Wouldn't mind having a quiet Christmas in here for once, one without giant space ships or swarms of Racnoss. Titanic, was that on Christmas, too? Almost crashing into Buckingham palace?"

"Christmas, yes. They were playing those foul songs all the time," the Master reminded him.

"Yes, just so long as it's no big family gatherings. Can't do domestic things. And speaking of Racnoss," the Doctor muttered and he trailed off as he heard a familiar voice calling out to him.

"Doctor! Doctor, it's you, I finally found you!"

"Donna?"

The woman ran up to him, elbowing her way past Sherlock and knocking him over.

"Doctor!"

She was squeezing the life out of him.

" _Ouf_. Donna, that was Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock Who?"

Sherlock was picking himself up, getting a hand from John. He dusted snow from his coat and frowned with displease. "John and I will be going now. Good luck with whatever it is you're doing."

He turned around, grabbing John by his upper arm and marching him back up to the house.

"Did you just invite them over for Christmas?"

"I think I did, yes. We are having aliens over for Christmas."

"They get your room," Sherlock informed.

*

The Doctor had hoped to avoid getting any familiar faces exposed to the Master, but Donna had been looking for him for years. It would be too cruel to at least not let her into the TARDIS.

"Donna Noble, the Master, etc. Please don't get too well acquainted," the Doctor requested.

"The _Master_?" Donna repeated as if it was the most stupid title she had ever heard. "Your new boyfriend, is he?"

"We are not dating," the Doctor said from between gritted teeth. He was glad that the Master had enough of a mind to put the jar of human eyes down before coming to greet her. He did so with one of the grumpiest expressions he'd ever been seen with.

"Who's she, then? Another one of your harlots?" he asked.

"Ex _cuse_ me? Hey, aren't you that Saxon bloke?" she asked, taking a closer look at him. "I knew you were a bad egg from the moment I saw you. Well _I_ didn't vote for you, for sure."

This had been a recipe for disaster all along.

"I didn't need your vote, and I don't want it either," the Master growled in return.

"Hah. You know, that's odd, because last time I checked, you're not the Prime Minister," Donna retorted.

The Master's frown deepened.

"I was in an alternate timeline, so shut your trap and—"

"Hold on, hold on both of you," the Doctor said, getting between them and putting his hands up. "Donna, you have no idea how happy I am to see you. I've been stuck with him for the past year."

"Hey!"

"You shouldn't be calling women names," the Doctor chided him.

"She stood up to me. I don't like women who stand up to me. They shoot me."

"Good riddance," Donna huffed at him.

"Can we just all be friends, this once?"

Donna straightened herself up and tried to act a little more composed. The Master folded his arms over his chest and went huffy, but didn't say more.

"Now," the Doctor said. "Tell me why you've been looking for me, Donna."

*

He didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. That this woman from the Doctor's past should show up and ruin everything. The Master wasn't even sure what she was ruining. He had somehow liked it when it was just the two of them, though. At least the Doctor had completely forgotten about his laser screwdriver, which he was using to dehumidify some flies that were buzzing around. He snickered to himself.

There was a knock at his door and the Doctor entered, only to frown at the Master, because he was lying naked in bed and hugging the jar of human eyes to him.

"I just wanted you to know that Donna will be going with us. Just for a little while. Can't expose her to too much of you, after all."

"Don't care. Do whatever you like. I'm a prisoner. You've long since forgotten the promise you made me before I regenerated."

The Doctor had mixed feelings of guilt and frustration. "There is only so much I can do, alright? And maybe I need a change of company. You get on my _nerves_ some times."

"And you get on mine all the time. Now get out!" the Master said. He was seconds from throwing the jar at him, but threw a pillow instead. It hit the door as it closed behind the Doctor.

The Master turned over and sulked. He wondered how that storybook had ended, but the Doctor wasn't going to be telling him now. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. The rhythm continued.

*

"I told you, there's nothing going on between me and the Master."

They were walking through an endless library, bickering back and forth. The last few trips had been nothing _but_ bickering and shouting, but mostly between the Master and Donna. They didn't go well together.

"You're the last two Martians, travelling time and space together," Donna pointed out.

"For the last time," the Doctor groaned. "I just want a mate. Why does no one get that I just want a mate?"

"You just want _to mate_? Is that what you brought me here for, you sick pervert?" Donna raged. "There won't be no mating, for either of you. You're skinny and... and alien. Skinny gay Martian boys."

"Martian?"

"She always calls me Martian," the Master said sourly. "Make her stop."

"Alright, you two, shut up or we are going right back to the TARDIS," the Doctor warned them.

They went quiet, but they weren't happy about it. The Doctor walked ahead.

"So." Donna leaned over all conspiratory-like. "That Doctor. Does give he give or take?"

"You're not answering that," the Doctor told the Master while he scanned the area with the sonic screwdriver.

"He takes. Oh yes," the Master mouthed silently to Donna. She did her best to not laugh.

They continued through the library, encountering some interesting tourist information drones. Donna was disgusted, the Master wished he'd taken them into use when he was Prime Minister.

"It chose a face it thought I would like." Donna had trouble getting past that fact. "A dead face."

"Genius. They even make use of dead people in this place. Wonder how the mutilated ones show up."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Freak."

"Hush. Master, listen to the message," the Doctor interrupted them.

The information drone was reading up something, a warning from someone who had been there before the entire library somehow went empty. It was telling them to count the shadows.

The Time Lords exchanged looks.

"That sounds like something you would do if you encountered..."

"Yes," the Doctor confirmed.

"Alright. Back to the TARDIS," the Master decided. If there was one thing he wasn't, it was stupid.

"Come on, Donna, hurry," the Doctor said, making to march them right back there.

"What, what?" Donna asked. "What's going on?"

"If we are right, then we are in greater danger than we've been in for quite some time. We're not taking the chance."

As he said it, the lights began flickering out. It was time to run. The Doctor turned to the Master, but he was already on his way down the hall. Grabbing Donna, the Doctor shoved her ahead and the three ran as fast as they could, chased by the dwindling of light.

They shut themselves inside a smaller room and barred the door. This was about the time when the others arrived. From a door on the other side of the room, several figures in astronaut gear approached. The first of them took her helmet off, smiling at them.

"Doctor. Always comes when I call."

The Master sent the Doctor a sideways glance. The Doctor, too, was confused.

The Master did not end up liking River Song. She was something from the Doctor's future and she wouldn't say how she was involved with him. It didn't help that when she first noticed him, her reaction was less than polite. Her face fell into a displeased frown in an instant, as if she was used to looking like that whenever he was around.

"Oh. It's _you_."

"Tell me I at least did something spectacular to offend you," the Master said. "From a neutral standpoint."

"Spoilers," was all she told him.

They were scanning the doorways and all the shadows of the room in hope of discovering what was chasing after them.

"So, you said you knew what was chasing after us," Donna reminded the Doctor.

"Vashta Nerada," the Doctor explained. "It's microscopic creatures that disguise themselves as shadows in order to hunt."

"They latch onto their prey and strip their bones clean," the Master said cheerfully. "Every planet has them, but they're supposed to be in forests. What are they doing in here? And so many of them."

"Hold on. Every planet? Even Earth?" Donna asked.

"I need a packed lunch," the Doctor said.

"There's River," the Master suggested.

Before anything else could be said, a scream was heard. They rushed through a doorway to find the very clean remains of Miss Evangelista, one of the explorers. It was an unpleasant experience, particularly for Donna, hearing her Data Ghost's final thoughts about ice-cream. Mourning was cut short when the pilot of the explorer team spoke up.

"Uhm, guys. I don't mean to be rude, but I think I have two shadows."

The Doctor got up. "Alright, everyone, stand still and don't let your shadows touch his. Anyone can get infected," he warned.

"I love it when you take charge," the Master told him with a smirk.

"Shut up," the Doctor told him. "Stand very still, Dave, and let me just..." He reached out with the screwdriver, closing the vizier of the pilot's helmet. "That should hold them off, for a little while."

He turned to the Master and Donna.

"You two. I am teleporting you back to the TARDIS. Neither of you have suits and you aren't safe here."

" _What_?"

"But Doctor," Donna protested. "You don't have a suit either."

"You are _not_ teleporting me out of danger. I'm just as good at handling these situations," the Master reminded him. "In fact I'm way better than y—"

Using the screwdriver, the Doctor teleported them without hearing out their complaints.

*

Everything was sort of fuzzy and pretty. It definitely wasn't the TARDIS. He arrived in an ambulance but couldn't remember being sick, and then there was this man standing in his living room.

"Who the Hell are you?" the Master asked.

"Had a little slip there, did you? It's to be expected. You have been ill for quite some time. I am Doctor Moon," the man said.

"Doctor?" The Master narrowed his eyes. "You're... black. And fat."

"Doctor Moon," Doctor Moon repeated. "Haven't we talked about these dreams of yours? It seems real, but it's not. Don't confuse dream and reality."

"Oh..." The Master's eyes were blank as he struggled to get a grip on what was going on. "I forgot."

"And then you remembered," Doctor Moon said with a smile.

The Master found himself to be confused and a little misplaced. Something was very wrong, but he was forgetting what it was.

"What's happening, Doctor Moon?" he asked, looking at the man with concern.

"Don't you remember?" Doctor Moon asked. "You and I are going to the park."

They were in the park. Feeding ducks. That was strange. The Master had no idea why he would ever feel inclined to feed ducks.

"Birds are weird," he muttered.

There was a woman on the bench next to them. A pretty one. In his mind she looked just stupid enough to be manipulated, but not so much that it made her boring.

The two of them went out. Then they got married and had kids, and it was all very strange and not at all like him. And every now and then he would see this woman, Donna, together with her husband and kids and he had a feeling there was something really familiar with her. Doctor Moon told him not to worry about it, though, and so he didn't.

It was all so normal. Somehow, he was fine by that. Normal was good. Good old boring normal. The longer it went on, the less he remembered of what he had been doing and who he had been before... Before everything. It was a new life, a new chance.

Then suddenly it ended. He was back in the library and memories flooded back to him. Surrounded by everyone else who had been stuck in the matrix, they were all loaded back out of the doctor moon.

There was Donna, and there was the Doctor running towards them with more relief than he should be allowed to feel.

"You sent us away!" the Master yelled at him, pushing people aside so he could properly bring down his wrath on the wiry little wanker who was the cause of this. "Have you _any_ idea what I just had to suffer through?" he asked, mouth frothing.

The Doctor looked at Donna in confusion, trying to hold the infuriated Master at arm's length.

"Don't look at me, I don't see what he's complaining about," Donna said defensively. "Whenever I saw him in there, he looked all happy with a wife and kids."

The Doctor had to stop and really look at the Master while he tried to imagine that.

"You? Kids?"

"I don't want to talk about it," the Master said from between gritted teeth.

"That shouldn't be allowed. In fact, I'm deciding that now. You are _never_ allowed to reproduce for the better of all sentient creatures."

"On whose authority?" the Master spat.

"Mine." The Doctor smiled at him. "So, did you kiss them goodnight? Read them bedtime stories? Was she lovely that wife of yours? Long walks on the beach and candlelit dinners?"

The Master's ears and cheeks were bright red. Also, his hands were fists and his jaw was clenched so hard that not even a sonic screwdriver would have gotten it open.

"Oh, you are _flustered_. You liked it, didn't you? Just won't admit it to yourself," the Doctor kept on teasing. He was getting such a kick out of the Master's expression. "Blissfully domestic and normal life, except this time around your marriage wasn't just a farce."

"It was the most horrible thing and they made me _like_ it," the Master whined.

"It's probably good for you," the Doctor laughed.

"Can we just go? I take it you dealt with the Vashta Nerada," the Master requested. He couldn't even look at the Doctor. "Where did Donna go?"

They turned around, only to see Donna with one of the blokes who had been transported down along with them. They appeared a little awkward, and at the same time very excited.

"Who's that?" the Doctor asked, craning his neck to see better.

"I don't know. I think they were married in the virtual reality or something," the Master said with a huff.

There was a woman there, and she caught the Master's eye. She was hesitant, but she gave him a little wave. The Master was frozen for a second. Then he grabbed a book from a nearby counter and chucked it at her.

"What was that for?" the Doctor asked. "Was that the woman you—?"

"Shut up, _shut up_."

The Master stalked back towards the TARDIS.

It was curious how things turned out. Donna had found the perfect man. He was gorgeous, hardly capable of speaking and completely enraptured by her. Sometimes the universe got it right.

*

With Donna settling in with Lee, it was once again just the Doctor and the Master. Perhaps that was for the better, the Doctor thought. There was something to what the Master had said; he kept corrupting people, but the Master was already as screwed up as he was going to be. So there they were. The Doctor and the Master in the TARDIS.

"Ow. _Ow_ , that hurt," the Doctor complained. He examined the cut on his hand. "Ow."

"Looking at it doesn't make it hurt less," the Master reminded him dryly. "Man up."

They were stuck in a dark, damp dump. People and Hath were fighting and they had encountered some humans who weren't nice at all.

There was a chamber opening up, and the gas inside it dispersed. A girl stepped out, and she looked at the Doctor and smiled.

"Hello, father."

There was a moment of silent shock. It had to be the first time the Doctor and the Master had their mouths shut simultaneously. It was the Master who spoke first.

"Ooh, a cloning machine."

The Doctor grabbed him by his shoulder.

"No, just no. You are staying away from that." Then he looked to the girl with annoyance. "And I'm not your father. You're just a generated anomaly."

"That's unusually cold for you, Doctor," the Master noted with slight pride. He was eyeing the girl up and down. Probably legal, he noted. The human soldiers had also been quick to hand her a gun, which was probably why the Master was taking a liking to her and the Doctor wasn't. She knew how to handle it.

The Doctor wasn't at all approving of the warfare going on. He was asking around, trying to make sense of it all, this "Source" that they were all searching for and fighting over. He tinkered with their equipment until he found the Source's location.

"We need to get there before they do," the Doctor said. "They want to use it as a weapon against the Hath."

"Good boys," the Master applauded. "Jenny is coming with us."

"Jenny?" the Doctor asked. He turned around to see the Master dragging his supposed "daughter" with him. She didn't seem to mind all too much.

"I can help," she insisted, holding up her weapon.

"You just put that away, miss," the Doctor told her very carefully. "Also, Jenny?" he asked.

"She needs a name so I can shout at her. You called her a generated anomaly. Jenny for short," the Master explained.

"And you call me cold. Alright, let's be on our way then, shall we?"

The three of them snuck off before the other soldiers got wind of what they were doing. They would soon be at their tails, and the Doctor was searching for a shortcut they could take.

"So, you're a clone." The Master was making small talk while the Doctor tried to open a particularly tricky door.

"So I am," Jenny said brightly.

"And that's working out for you, is it? What's it like? Are you very loyal? Would you kill with one command, and would you die to protect your creator?"

The Doctor turned away from his work to scold the Master with one sharp look. The Master threw his hands in the air.

"I'm not chatting up your daughter, I swear. Wouldn't dream of it. Even if she's hot it would just be wrong."

Jenny snickered. "Are you my mother?"

"What? No!"

Both men had heavy protests to that. Jenny just smiled.

"We're programmed to know how to fight. This war has been going on for generations and it's all we know."

"You don't have to kill," the Doctor gritted out. He got the door open and the three were on the run again.

"But what choice is there?" Jenny asked.

"Listen to the girl. She has a point. Your bloody pacifistic attitude is annoying, and look where it got _me_ ," the Master scoffed.

"There is always a choice. _Always_."

The Doctor's voice was harsh, and no one argued with him. Not at first.

"She's still your daughter, though," the Master muttered. "Your genocidal daughter. Fancy that."

"She's a generated anomaly."

"She's more comfortable with just 'Jenny'."

"I really am," she agreed.

The soldiers were right behind them. A small platoon armed to their teeth and ready to die, and the three of them were running as fast as they could until they could run no more. They ducked behind some debris.

"I'll handle it," Jenny said.

"Jenny, no! You have a choice," the Doctor repeated.

She was already up and aiming at the soldiers. "Run, both of you. I'll catch up."

"I'm getting _so_ bored with the running," the Master sighed, but the two went off either way.

Jenny had all the soldiers pointing their weapons at her, she was taking aim.

She shot a tube in the ceiling. Hot damp shot out and prevented anyone from advancing. Grinning, she leapt over the debris and caught up with the two men.

"I didn't shoot anyone! I could have, but I didn't. You were right, father."

"I'm not your father," the Doctor was quick to point out. "But... well done."

Again, the Master sighed. She'd been so promising. Now was when the Doctor was starting to warm up to her, actually tried talking to her. He found that her mind was open to ideas, that she was more than just a programmed drone made to be slaughtered on a battlefield.

"How come you like her so much?" the Doctor asked quietly when the girl was walking ahead of them and out of earshot.

"The rhythm, Doctor. Didn't you hear?" the Master asked. "She has two hearts beating in that lovely chest of hers."

It was something for the Doctor to think about, for sure. He didn't want to admit it at first. She couldn't be Time Lord. She wasn't properly Time Lord, in any case. She was something completely of her own, and while it felt wrong to begin with, it wasn't at all such a bad thing. The Doctor accepted her with ease.

The Master actually decided not to butt in this time. He let the Doctor give her all the usual promises. See the stars, see distant planets. First of all see the sky. Suddenly the Doctor wanted all the best things in the world for her, and somehow it wasn't all that terrible for the Master to watch.

They reached the temple where the Source was being kept. It was a complete jungle. The plant life was astonishing for such a place underground. In the middle of it all was a big, glowing orb.

"That must be the Source," the Doctor said. He stepped closer to examine it.

"It's pretty," Jenny remarked. "Not what I expected. How is that a weapon?"

"Ah, it's so much more than that, not a weapon at all," the Doctor said with a wide grin. He was about to explain when soldiers started filing in, humans from one side of the room and Hath from another.

"Stand back!" the human general ordered. "We won't hesitate to shoot if you stand in our way."

It was actually the Master who stepped forth, before the Doctor could do anything.

"This is your Source, then? The solution to all your problems and what you have been looking for all this time?" the Master asked, just to be sure. "A beacon of hope but, according to the Doctor, no use as a weapon."

Hearing it wasn't a weapon didn't sit well with any of them, but this was obviously what they had been looking for.

"Master, what are you doing?" the Doctor asked warily.

"Oh, don't concern yourself with me, Doctor. I'm just a little cranky that we went all this way for something so utterly harmless," the Master explained.

He grabbed Jenny's gun, whipped around and shot the Source into pieces. It shattered, scattering glowing light everywhere.

"Well, that was a disappointment," he complained. "Not even a _boom_."

One of the soldiers screamed. Maybe several of them did, because everyone in the room shared an intense hatred for the Master right then. Someone fired a weapon. For a split second, the Master thought he was going to die. So did the Doctor.

When things quieted down, it was Jenny who lay dying on the floor with a bullet hole. Even the Master felt a pang of guilt at the sight.

"Jenny, you idiot!" he yelled at her. "You weren't supposed to sacrifice yourself for me." He didn't know why he was saying that. He didn't _want_ to get shot. It was just very hard to watch the Doctor kneel over her and get all leaky-eyed.

Jenny seemingly passed away, and the Doctor stood back up. First thing he did was punch the Master in the face, then he turned on his heel to address everyone else.

"You lot have been fighting over nothing!" he said, shaking with rage. "That was a terraforming device. Breaking it set lose all its chemicals. They are going to make this world inhabitable. There is going to be life, there is going to be grass and trees and air. That's what you have all been fighting over. Your war is pointless."

There was dead silence. The Master had his hands over his nose, praying it wasn't broken. The Doctor panted, looking around the room from humans to Hath.

"All of you. You will colonize this planet together. In harmony. Remember those who had to die for no reason and let these words be the foundation of your society; there will be _no_ more killing."

*

They were quiet when they got back to the TARDIS. The Doctor was angry, the Master knew. His bleeding nose was a proof of that. The Doctor hadn't said anything, and the Master wasn't going to encourage him. He knew that he was due for an earful. Of course, he had suspected it was a terraforming device, but he had _meant_ to cause destruction. Hopefully make the device useless. That had been a bad idea, in retrospect. All his ideas were. It was a long while since he stopped looking at his ideas in retrospect.

He sat by a table with a cup of tea, dabbing away the last drops of blood with a paper handkerchief. It had finally stopped. The Doctor was across the table with a cup of his own, staring out into the room with one of those looks on his face. The look that said he'd lost something important. He'd only known Jenny for a day, but he'd really gotten his hopes up.

It got tenser by the minute. It was a slow sort of tension that crept up on them, all sneaky like. Uncomfortable and awkward, filled with disappointment and regret. It was unbearable, but it was the Doctor who broke the silence.

"Why did you keep calling her my daughter?" he asked, now looking at the Master.

The Master consciously had a sip of his tea, staring into the cup.

"I liked her and I wanted to tease you."

"You're lying."

It got to the point where the Master had to put the cup down, even if he seriously considered not to. He had a talent for pulling off awkward poses. When he looked the Doctor in the eyes, he had to say something.

"I didn't want her to die, you know. And she died because of me. That's a first; not wanting someone to die, I mean. It wasn't fun to see her go," he admitted. "All the other times people died around us, it was mostly because I had a great time watching them go."

He'd killed a million people on earth, wiped all forms of life from a moon and done serious injury to quite a lot of other places. It was accurate to say that they had left a trail of bodies behind them.

They had come a long way, though. At least in the Doctor's opinion. If the Master could care for even _one_ life, then perhaps he would be more careful about killing again.

"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out. "I won't stop bothering you until you do."

The Master inhaled deeply, then let out a long sigh, making a point of it. "I thought... Maybe I just... You know, I feel sorry for you. I hate you, but I really do feel sorry for you. My arch enemy and all that aside, I want you to have something. Someone. In your life. Something that won't get complicated, like family."

It was the most embarrassing thing he had ever said. He was going red, and the Doctor wasn't even saying anything. He just looked at him. Then he got up and approached the Master whose stomach was churning with displeasure.

"What?" he asked, looking up at the Doctor from where he was sitting, tea in one hand and red around the nose with blood. "You pack one surprisingly good punch and I really don't want another one if I can—"

The Doctor leaned down and kissed him. The Master went limp. For a moment the world was spinning, and not because he probably had a concussion. He couldn't remember having been kissed like that before, with so much emotion. It was quiet and sweet and it was over far too quickly.

The Doctor looked him in the eye, tried to say something, but instead just straightened up and left him there. The Master was breathless and couldn't get one word out. His eyes were glued to the Doctor's back until he was out of sight. Then he just stared at the spot where the Doctor had disappeared around a corner.

It took him a while to get back in control. He brushed his fingers over his lips in thought. It hadn't been bruising or harsh in any way, and still he felt the ghost of the kiss still lingering. He turned back to his mug with a small huff.

"He wants me, alright," the Master said to himself. Then he took a smug sip of his tea.

*

"Are you _sure_ you wouldn't rather join me in the pool?" the Master asked. The water was clean and transparent like liquid crystals and the sun was hot and blinding through the glass roof of the resort. It was all so white and pretty and relaxing. The Master was resting his head in his arms, leaning on the edge of the pool and letting the rest of his body drift in the water. It was just the right temperature to cool him off from the sun without actually being cold. This was bliss.

"Actually, I was hoping I'd be able to talk you into joining me for a shuttle bus trip. Guided. Sapphire waterfalls made out of actual liquid sapphires. How does that sound?" the Doctor asked. He was crouching down at the edge of the pool, trying to tempt the man. If anything, the Master seemed tempted to grab his tie and pull him into the water.

"Sounds romantic. No thank you," the Master said. He had his eyes closed and was only a belly rub away from purring. "I'm fine right here. You go, though. I don't need you staring at me while I'm almost naked." He wouldn't have minded, really, but those comments always got him rid of the Doctor.

True enough, the Doctor told him to have a good time and was on his way. This would be a good day, the Master thought. He could bask in the sun, lie back and relax for once. No running, no panicking, no Doctor shouting orders at him and being obnoxious. He could get used to that. In fact, he would just lie there all day and dream of all the ways he would have tried to take over the universe by now if he wasn't stuck with that old stick-in-the-mud.

It was, of course, too good to be true. Hours passed by, not a second wasted on the Master's part, and then the distress call arrived. There was a problem with the shuttle bus, the one the Doctor was on. The Master was informed. Whomever informed him should have been given a good slapping about, because that was the worst thing they could ever have done.

Clothes back on, it was time to run about and panic. But first he had to find out what was actually going on. He shouted at people until he was taken to a control room.

"We have hacked into the cameras on board and have visuals and audio, but no way of sending them any messages or indicating that we are watching. The pilot cabin appears to have been torn away," one of the men at the control panel informed him. "We can do nothing from here. They just have to wait until the rescue shuttle arrives."

"Well, then. They obviously won't be needing you."

The Master shut the door, locked it and then turned his screwdriver to the man in the seat. Once he was knocked out (possibly dead), his seat was quickly reoccupied by one concerned Time Lord. There was a number of screens showing the shuttle bus' interior from different angles. He could see them, the Doctor and the other passengers. They all were keeping away from one woman crouching on the floor. She was repeating everything they were saying. Oh no, this was not good.

The Master altered between watching the feed from the chair, swivelling on the chair and pacing back and forth. There was nothing he could do. Even if he wanted to go in and save the Doctor (which he really didn't), there was no way for him to do so. He could highjack a rescue shuttle and go out there on his own. That was a thought. Not that it would help. It took hours to get out there and a rescue shuttle had already been sent. By the time it would arrive, they would all be dead or saved by the Doctor.

Which left him, the Master, the controller, with no control of the situation at all. The Doctor always landed himself in trouble when he wasn't around. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. And that was just the beginning of it. The blasted woman stole the Doctor's voice, and he could see and hear it all on screen. The Doctor was reduced to repeating everything she said, and then all the passengers were turning on the Doctor.

"No. No, _no_!" the Master hissed, kicking at the machinery. "Put him down!"

There was no way the Doctor would survive being thrown out of the shuttle, and there he was, forced to encourage his own destruction while the other passengers carried him towards the airlock. The Doctor couldn't even move, and he was really going to die now, wasn't he?

" _No_!" the Master yelled, slamming his fists into the dashboard. The screens went blank and he screamed louder yet. This wasn't happening.

The door was broken down. People didn't like it when he occupied their control rooms, but he didn't care. He was trying to use his screwdriver to fix the control panel, but it wasn't really made to fix things. That was the Doctor's thing.

And then he didn't remember much else. Someone had actually been smart enough to sedate him before he made any further damage.

When the Master came to, he was very disoriented and worried. He'd been put on a couch somewhere quiet, and apparently not charged for murder. He hadn't even killed the bastard in the control room. That was just sad on his part.

The Doctor. Oh, by heaven and every galaxy he would one day conquer. The Doctor. _His_ Doctor.

People were flocking to the rescue shuttle by the time he got there. He picked up snippets of conversation and heard that several people had been killed. They could all die for all he cared and he elbowed himself through the crowd. So long as...

The Doctor was alive. The Doctor had made it. The Doctor spotted the Master there in the crowd and made his way over before someone put a blanket around his shoulders and started making a fuss over him.

"Let's get away before this escalates?" the Doctor suggested.

The Master just nodded. He was pale as a sheet. His insides felt as if they had turned to liquid, and he just didn't believe how worried he was. He felt dazed. Stunned. Completely out of his element and he didn't even notice that they somehow ended up back in their room at the resort.

The Doctor was down, but the Master was simply a wreck. Once they were alone, he was able to speak again.

"I watched you. I saw it. Most of it. I thought you were going to die."

His voice was shaking. The Doctor realized that there was a time and place for everything. Those who lost their lives that day would have to be mourned later. The living would have to be in priority. He took the Master into his arms and just held him close. He was surprised to feel the man sob and latch onto him. It was dry and soundless, but it was definitely a sob.

"You were really that worried about me?"

"I'm in pieces, you wanker," the Master hissed. Being so worried and then so relieved made him angry. There were too many emotions inside of him and he turned it all into anger.

The Doctor sat down on one of the beds and held the Master to him, much because he was expecting to get hit if he let the man's arms free.

"I'm alright," the Doctor assured. "Been in worse situations and gotten out of it unscathed. Worst case I'll regenerate if something really bad happens."

"You couldn't have regenerated from that," the Master gritted out. His eyes were pressed shut, his fingers curled up at the back of the Doctor's coat. The Doctor let him sit there and tremble against him for a while, then he cupped his face and made the Master look up.

"Hey. This isn't like you at all, is it? Think of what the world would say if they saw the Master in the arms of his arch nemesis. Wouldn't want that getting out, would we?"

"That's a very poor way to cheer someone up," the Master scoffed. "Remind me of how soft you've made me."

The Doctor pressed a kiss to his forehead. The Master sniffed audibly.

"I hate you," the Master went on. "I've hated you all this time. For centuries. Always getting in my way and destroying my plans. But now I hate you more than ever; you made me care about you."

"Ironic, isn't it?" the Doctor remarked. His lips twitched with amusement. He held the Master close again, stroking his hair.

"Now you've done it. Now I really am one of your harlots," he spat. "Hopelessly obsessed with you and doomed to get abandoned somewhere. And I don't even have a home to go to."

"You're not, and you aren't going to get abandoned," the Doctor assured. "You won't grow old," he whispered. "We're the same, you and I. We could travel together forever."

"That'll be the death of me, Doctor."

The two looked at each other, just trying to understand what the other was saying. The Master knew that the Doctor was slowly suffocating him, even if he didn't mean to. He hadn't realized how badly he wanted the Doctor. That one time wasn't enough. He'd spend eternity hungering for more, and the Doctor would never...

Except he would. The Doctor kissed him again right there, and it was as kind as last time. It tasted of tears and worry. It didn't matter, because this was a genuine kiss and it wasn't just out of pity. Hands in each other's hair and along each other's bodies, intense and yet somehow without biting. It only stopped when they both had to gasp for air.

"I don't care. I'll travel with you if it kills me," the Master panted.

The Doctor looked relieved. Finally he could stop feeling guilty for keeping the Master with him. There was no prisoner on board of the TARDIS. None that walked about and talked, in any case. No, that wasn't the Master at all. He was so much more. Most of it was bad, but they could always add to the good things.

The Doctor pulled the Master close by his tie and claimed his lips once more. While the kiss grew more passionate and insistent, he got the Master's jacket open and pushed it off his shoulders. They would do this again, but he wasn't letting the Master in charge. That wasn't going to happen again in a long while.

They undressed each other with haste and fell over on the bed together while furiously snogging. There was a noise of protest from the Master when he was pushed down, but he had the Doctor's hand down between his legs and he couldn't really complain. Really. He was moaning into the Doctor's mouth and hoping he didn't look completely pathetic, but he did. The Doctor thought it was a massive improvement to have him squirming in the linen like this.

The Master groaned as their lips broke apart, throwing his head back when the Doctor went for his neck with lovely, lovely kisses.

"Doctor, are you...?"

"Oh, yes I am," the Doctor assured him. He made a point by taking the Master's wrists and pinning him down while his mouth ravaged the Master's body. Any struggling from the Master's side was weak and reluctant, because he was enjoying every second of this. There was just no way he could let the Doctor take him without even a small struggle, on principle.

The Doctor could have used this as an opportunity for revenge, but he didn't. It still baffled the Master how the Doctor could be kind in any situation if he only wanted. The Master was gasping and squirming as the Doctor prepared him, legs flailing. He wanted to make a ruckus but it wasn't working out. The Doctor held him down, kissing his chest and stomach and making him forget every desire to take control.

He hooked his legs around the Doctor's waist, pulling him down. "Hurry it up, Doctor," he hissed. Already he was frustratingly aroused, and he didn't have time for the Doctor's niceties.

"Don't you ever slow down"? the Doctor asked, which was a bit ironic.

"Nev- _aah_!"

The Master's hands were clutching at the Doctor's shoulders as he was impaled. Panting hard, he pressed his face to the Doctor's chest. He drew sharp breaths, clinging to the man over him. Oh, this was rich; the two of them coming together like this after so long.

Their moans and gasps rang throughout the resort as they desperately became one. Skin damp from exertion sliding against skin, hips grinding together and hands going everywhere, exploring and claiming. It was a shame that it hadn't happened like this sooner; both savouring each other and forgetting the past. Flushed and panting, the Master let the Doctor turn him over as he liked, handle him. He wanted to be handled and controlled.

This wasn't a battle to be won and he couldn't care less if he was underneath him or riding him into oblivion. He got a fair share of everything, and come morning it was impossible to say which limbs were whose. They were one sweaty tangle among the sheets and the Master had knocked the lamp on the nightstand over.

The Master woke up to the feeling of a finger running down his spine. A pleasant shudder went through him and he kept his face buried in the pillows. He didn't want to get up. Not ever. A kiss was pressed to the back of his neck. He frowned, then turned over to look up into the Doctor's face.

"You're looking smug," the Master commented. He sounded sleepy still. He hated early mornings. Early mornings were for nice people, or bad people who were just really desperate.

"You're looking satisfied," the Doctor replied. He looked more smug than ever. The Master was relieved to see him lie back down.

"So did you ever get to see those sapphire waterfalls?" the Master asked with a smirk on his lips. The answer didn't matter in the least. He had the Doctor there, next to him. That was for the best, because the Doctor didn't reply.

No one had known the name of the hostess who died on the shuttle bus. They had lost their pilots. And poor Sky. No, no he hadn't seen any sapphire waterfalls and they certainly didn't seem to matter now. He rested his head on the Master's shoulder and tried not to show how much it bothered him.

*

It was different, now. In small ways. Somehow, while they weren't looking, it had become a thing. This thing between them that pulled and pushed and couldn't quite decide on what it wanted to be. The Doctor found that he kept waking up next to the Master, even if they hadn't said anything about sharing rooms. They didn't, not really.

The Master had to explain to the Doctor about double beds. It took him a while to grasp the idea. Otherwise they carried on like usual; with the occasional instance of the Doctor getting grabbed from behind while he was trying to pilot them through time and space. The Doctor and the Master in the TARDIS.

To the Doctor's disappointment, the Master was just as destructive as ever. With the TARDIS controls set to random, the Doctor kept his eyes on the Master while they travelled. First to a distant start which, they found out a little late, was about to become a supernova. A lot of running back to the TARDIS ensued, and the Master slammed the door in the faces of some people the Doctor had promised to rescue. By the time he realized, it was too late.

Going back in time with a promise of dinosaurs, the Master turned out to be the real reason why they died out. Taking a trip to the middle ages, the Doctor found himself very suspicious to an early outbreak of the black plague in Norway, 1348.

The Doctor never stopped scolding the Master, but it would have been far worse if the man actually upset history. He had a tendency not to do that. Maybe he knew that would be crossing the line.

The Doctor was good at containing the damage, but it was wearing him thin. After the Master had destroyed Pluto's fifth moon, the Doctor dragged him back into the TARDIS by his ear.

"Ow, ow."

"Just tell them Pluto isn't a planet while you're at it," the Doctor scowled at him. "How do you even pull these things off?"

"Ow," the Master reminded. The Doctor let go of him, crossed his arms and glared. And yet he could never be properly angry with this man. His glare lost its sharpness as soon as the Master looked at him and reminded him that he had changed in very small ways since they started travelling together.

The drums were getting louder. It was as if they were building up to something, and the Master's need to destroy was getting worse than ever. He wasn't sure if he wanted the Doctor to know.

The Doctor let out a sigh and shook his head. He didn't know what to do about the Master.

"Master, in all these years we've known each other, there's one thing I always wanted to do."

"You already punched me, if that's what you mean," the Master said with a huff.

The Doctor didn't say anything, but started removing his belt. The Master watched him warily, and then he was shoved back against the TARDIS' control panel. It was strangely familiar to their first night together, except now it was the Master who was bent over and had his trousers yanked down. Hadn't he been so hopeful for something good, he probably would have been able to avoid what followed.

The Doctor had no intensions of being nice. When his belt cracked down on the Master's ass, it was channelling centuries of fury. The Doctor held the Master down with one hand at the back of his neck, and with the other he bore the belt down on him without mercy. The Master screamed and hammered his fist against the control panel, but while as tears streamed down his face, he was also somewhat enjoying it. Probably why the Doctor didn't hold back.

He spanked the Master's ass red and sore before he let him go. The Master slumped to the floor with a relieved gasp. He was half hard and not at all holding a grudge to the Doctor, because the Doctor was about to get bent over the nearest surface and be repaid sorely in a far more intimate manner.

*

There was a strange sound in Baker Street. Those who heard it would have described it as a sort of _vworp vworp_ noise, had they any sense of accuracy. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson both ran outside to see the TARDIS materialize. Out came the Doctor.

"Well, I knew Christmas in London isn't usually the whitest," the Doctor remarked. "But I had expected less green and less people in shorts. It just gets worse each year, doesn't it?"

"This is the middle of July," Sherlock informed them. They had stopped right in front of the TARDIS to greet the time travellers. John never really had a time to say anything as the Doctor only kept talking.

"Oh, sorry about that," he said, making a face. "Let me just fine tune the old girl and we'll give it another shot. We'll be in for fruit cake and pudding before you can say 'wibbly wobbly timey wimey'. Before me and the Master can say it, anyway. To you it's going to be five months. Again, sorry about that."

He ducked back inside and it was only seconds before the TARDIS was gone yet again. Sherlock and John looked at each other.

"That was weird even for him," John remarked.

"No, John. No it wasn't," Sherlock assured him. One day he would figure out how that thing worked. It haunted him in his sleep.

It was a few days before Christmas when the TARDIS arrived next. Mycroft was visiting, and so it wasn't all that easy to run outside when they heard the noise. They just fell silent, and Mycroft looked around with a frown.

"What was that?"

John looked guilty, Sherlock's face was blank. It wasn't long until the doorbell chimed. No one moved. It ended up being John who had to get up, while Sherlock turned back to Mycroft.

"It really would be better if you left, now, as I simply have no time for your case. Missing missile plans is your own problem and not at all in my field of interest."

John greeted the Doctor and the Master at the door.

"A small blip, that before. You know what that's like," the Doctor explained away. He didn't stop talking until they were upstairs and he saw Mycroft, his train of thoughts diverted. "Haven't we met?"

Mycroft looked the Doctor up and down with a definite look of disapproval at the Doctor's general appearance.

"I shouldn't think so, no."

"Weird. That's weird, that is," the Doctor said, scratching his head. "I could swear... But you were blond. And scorpion-ish. Maybe you just have one of those faces."

Mycroft looked more confused than ever. Sherlock ushered his brother towards the door.

"He got you spot-on, Mycroft. Now, I am sure you have less important things than me that you are dying to attend to."

With Mycroft out of the house, the four sat down in the cramped living room and spent the better part of the night talking. When travelling through time and space, it was impossible to run out of stories, and the Doctor had a fascination for everything the crime solving duo was up to.

Next day, John was out doing the shopping and the Time Lords were reacquainting themselves with London. Sherlock was alone when the bomb went off.

Other than damage to the building, everything was fine. Someone had tried to put a blanket around his shoulders, but otherwise Sherlock was unharmed. It wasn't long before the pink phone arrived and the game was on. A serial bomber with a specific interest in Sherlock. It was hard for the Doctor and the Master to keep their noses out of this one, but Sherlock insisted.

"So much for Christmas," the Doctor said. They were at the kitchen in Sherlock and John's flat while the other pair ran around trying to save lives. The Doctor was itching to go out there.

"It's not Christmas unless I'm trying to conquer a planet, anyway," the Master said sourly. He was even less interested in this Christmas thing than the Doctor was. He hadn't spent nearly enough time on Earth for that. And yet...

"I got you something," the Master said. "I might as well give it to you now."

The Doctor watched in surprise as the Master set a quite flat, square box down on the table. It wasn't gift-wrapped or anything, just a plain box. He pushed it towards the Doctor, indicating he should open it.

"You shouldn't have done that," the Doctor muttered. He hesitated, but reached out to open the box anyway. It wasn't ticking, at least.

"I know I shouldn't have. Don't think I'll ever do it again," the Master scoffed.

The Doctor removed the lid of the box and looked into it.

"A scarf?"

"Yes it is," the Master confirmed.

The Doctor didn't know what to say.

"Thank you."

"You wear those, don't you?" the Master asked to be sure.

"Yes. I mean, six regenerations ago, but yes, I wore those."

"There's a stick of celery in there, too."

The Doctor brightened up considerably.

*

It wasn't the most exciting days for the Doctor and the Master, but at least nothing was getting destroyed at the Master's hand this time. The bomber hadn't sent any more threats or leads, and so they were having the evening in, all four of them. It was as much of a party as there ever would be. Had it been up to Sherlock, there would have been none at all. It was Mrs. Hudson who had decorated the flat and put up mistletoe everywhere.

To the Doctor's surprise, the Master and Sherlock had a lot to talk about, and that scared him. The jar of eyes he had brought with him last time had been glued to the TARDIS dashboard. It freaked the Doctor out every time. John on the other hand was a good man, but frankly a bit too worried. He wasn't pleased with what the Doctor had said to Sherlock last time around.

"I mean he can be charming at times but he is mostly just scary or offensive when he tries to ask me out. I have told him to stop but he insists I should give it a try and it's entirely your fault," John accused. He was a little buzzed at this point. They all were.

"Most things are my fault," the Doctor muttered to himself. He pushed himself out of his chair and looked to John. "You know, you really should give him that chance," he said before he called out to the Master. They were calling it a day before the Master could break Sherlock any further. It was getting late.

Sherlock was sitting in an armchair, knees tucked up under his chin and an empty glass dangling from his fingertips, leaning slightly on the floor. The Master had gotten a drink or two in him and he was going on about Jesus' birthday not being in December and whatever other reasons why their traditions were wrong and Christmas was a big hoax.

John went to sit with him, clearing his throat. "Mistletoe," he pointed out. It was hanging right over their heads. Surely not even Sherlock could screw that one up.

"Ah. Yes. _Viscum album_ , the only species of mistletoe native in Great Britain. People used to believe it could ward off werewolves. According to the Doctor it really—"

John sighed. Then he leaned down and kissed him. Sherlock went silent. Blissful silence.

Upstairs, the Master had gotten a gift of his own, but only if he promised to play nice. He promised, and then he went right to putting the collar around the Doctor's neck.

"That's what I _should_ have done when I ruled the Earth. I should have just kept you naked on a leash and then we'd both be happy," the Master said smugly. He yanked at the leash. The Doctor's glasses fell off.

"Don't remind me," the Doctor warned him. He folded up his glasses and put them aside. Then he looked at the Master.

They had come to some sort of understanding, they supposed. While they couldn't stop thinking of each other as enemies, they had gained quite the level of respect for each other. Trusted each other and even cared deeply. The Doctor on a leash spoke for itself.

The Master yanked him close for a firm kiss.

"You can say it now," he murmured while he stroked a finger down the Doctor's face.

"I forgive you," the Doctor told him. "For everything."

"You will be saying that a lot tonight," the Master informed him with a gleam in his eye.

It was a good night for everyone. This one good night that didn't seem all too special until they were looking at it in retrospect. A lot was going to happen that next day. For one, the Doctor and the Master overslept and missed out on the most of it. When they found both John and Sherlock to be gone without any message left behind, it was time to get involved.

*

The pool at midnight. It was as dramatic as one could expect of Sherlock Holmes. He had just met his arch enemy Moriarty and now he was helping John off with the jacket strapped with bombs. He threw it, letting it slide across the floor away from them. Sherlock actually seemed concerned for once. The danger was over and still he was concerned for his... Whatever John was now.

This was when the Doctor and the Master caught up with them.

"You shouldn't have come," John told them. "It's not safe."

"And you shouldn't be staying around. Quick, you two," the Doctor said, urging both John and Sherlock on their way.

"You read my email," Sherlock accused. "You couldn't have gotten past my password. You used the sonic screwdriver and hacked into my laptop."

"Never mind that. You two, running off into danger without inviting us," the Doctor accused likewise.

"I didn't want any of this," John reminded them. "I don't _like_ having bombs strapped to me."

"Don't be modest, John. You love the action," Sherlock said.

This was when Moriarty changed his mind and returned. Sadly, at that point, the only one loitering behind was the Master, and there he was with countless little red dots taking aim at him. Snipers were so unfair.

"Don't!" the Doctor called out as the Master made to pull the laser screwdriver out of his pocket. It was already too late.

The Master fell to the floor, the screwdriver rolled from his hand and across the tiles. He was bleeding out.

It was a funny thing, time. How it slowed down the painful moments and made them seem that much worse. The Doctor yelled his name out.

The Master was starting to glow. Golden energy was flowing around him, from him and into him at the same time.

"Get away from him!" the Doctor called out. "Trust me, you don't want to be near him when that happens!"

"That's an option," Moriarty said. "Here's another one."

He signalled for the snipers to shoot him again. They did. The golden energy was gone. The Doctor screamed, and it took both Sherlock and John to hold him back. He fell to his knees. This couldn't be it.

*

Moriarty had gotten away. The Doctor had carried the Master out of there himself without saying a word to anyone. He didn't return to Sherlock and John after that. There had been so much hope for the man lying dead in his arms, but maybe some people weren't meant to have a shot. He remembered the Master saying that in one of his angry fits, that maybe he had been supposed to die when the Doctor convinced him to regenerate instead.

Death was never a solution. Death wasn't fair or fated. It was just death.

Away from the city, the Doctor built a pyre on his own. It was, all in all, not the worst day to die on, if such a thing had to be done. The air was crisp and cold, snow was coming down. Everything was white and blinding. He kissed the Master one last time before he stood back to watch his body burn.

He was wearing the scarf, if only for this one time. In his hands was the laser screwdriver. He was fidgeting with it while he waited for the flames to die out. Snow was covering up most of the ash and coal by the time he tore his gaze away from the place.

So once again he was the last of the Time Lords. Once again he went back to the TARDIS and it was just him. He couldn't remember feeling so alone.

He didn't take anyone with him when he left for his next trip, and not on the next one after that, either. He saved Earth from giant Cybermen and had one of his stranger bus trips before going to Mars. The incident at Mars didn't exactly cheer him up. Nothing was going right. He had perhaps saved the world once or twice, but while the results were good he had trouble taking any joy in the ride.

At one point he went back to the planet they first visited. Crystal beaches and lakes like mirrors. It didn't help. Mourning had never suited him, and he tried to get back into the game like he always did. And maybe he overdid a little. Naming a galaxy, getting married to the Virgin Queen and installing a car lock noise on the TARDIS was all good fun, but the Ood had summoned him a good while ago. They had been waiting for him, and so he gave them all his deepest apologies once he got around to the Ood Sphere.

He was invited to see the Elder in hopes that their prophecies and dreams would make more sense to the Doctor. He was expecting the usual; end of the world, rise of the Dalek Empire or some of the other cheery stuff he always got mixed into.

They showed him a face. A laughing face with all the bad intentions possible to hold in one expression. The Master looked more insane than ever, and the Doctor could hardly believe what he was seeing. The Ood also showed the Master's human wife, locked up in a cell, and other flashing images but nothing really mattered besides the Master.

"That man is dead," the Doctor protested. And apparently all the people in the universe were dreaming of him, not just the Ood. The Doctor had a flicker of hope that maybe he could have the Master back, but the vision of him was unpleasant in every way. He had failed. He hadn't been able to fix him and this was the result.

"Something more is happening, Doctor. The Master is part of a greater design," the Ood Elder said. "A shadow is falling over creation. Something vast is stirring in the dark."

The Ood were predicting the end of time itself. Something was returning, and it wasn't the Master they were talking about. The Doctor was throwing himself around and running back to the TARDIS before anything else could be said.

The world and time was first in line, sorry as he was to admit that. The visions of the Master did nothing but scare him.

*

As if being shot to death was the way for someone like him to go. Never. He wasn't going to die. Never die. _Never die_. He was laughing like mad as his body took form in a whirlwind of energy, and he had to laugh even harder when he saw the woman on the floor in front of him.

"Brought back to life by the widow's kiss. I hope you're happy to see me, Lucy," he cackled. "Oh, the noise. How I missed the drums. They're louder than ever."

He was revelling in his resurrection, sucking the life from the disciples who had brought him back while his wife watched. And once his resurrection was finished, he would wring the neck around on that bitch. Or maybe he would force her to stay with him just to torture her even further. She could watch as all of the human filth was wiped from the face of the planet.

But Lucy had a secret weapon. Something that would ruin his resurrection.

It was a while later that the Doctor arrived with the TARDIS, right outside the site of the resurrection. It was nothing but a smoking ruin at that point. Lucy herself was among those who had died in the explosion and the Master, if he was alive, was long gone. The Doctor had to throw himself back into the TARDIS once more and do another scan for the other Time Lord. Whatever the Master's intensions were, he needed to be found.

By now, the Master had hidden elsewhere. In the nooks and crannies of a construction site in hopes that the Doctor wouldn't find him at all. Anyone would recognize him as Harold Saxon, but it was the Doctor that always got in his way, always ruined his plans. It hadn't been any different when they travelled together.

And he was starved. So starved. He had all the energy in the world at his hands. Something had given him powers unlike anything he'd been able to do with bare hands.

By the time the Doctor found him, it was late in the evening. He'd picked clean the bones of anyone stupid enough to be at the construction site but he needed _more_. The hunger didn't stop and the drums were driving him mad. He was acting like an animal, and the black hoodie and baggy pants didn't help.

The Doctor came over him crouching in a corner. There was a hard look in his eyes. He knew. Oh, he had to know. The Master straightened up and walked towards him. Without a word, he struck the Doctor down with lightning from his fingertips.

As the Doctor collapsed, the Master grabbed him. He kneeled down, letting the Doctor lie on the ground. For some reason there was confusion on the Doctor's face.

"You're actually alive," he said, reaching a hand out. The Master narrowed his eyes but let the man touch him.

"What would the world do without me?" the Master asked, laughing. "Face it, old man. I'll never die."

The Doctor still didn't understand what was going through the Master's head. He was wheezing in pain from the shock of lightning.

"Oh, what. You thought I would be welcoming you with open arms, now? Oh no. Oh _no_ that's not what's going to happen. You promised to _help_. You promised so much, and here we are," the Master hissed.

"It's not too late," the Doctor insisted. "Let me help now. Your resurrection went wrong. You're burning up your life force. How many people have you killed by now?"

"But Doctor." The Master leaned down so he was inches away from the Doctor's face. "I am _so_ hungry."

"I can stop it," the Doctor pleaded, but the Master wasn't listening. He was ranting about food, about meat and grease and flesh and blood and hot gravy, and everything he just wanted to take. It was disgusting and the Doctor begged him to stop, to let him help.

"What, you heard about my return and you thought everything would be back to normal?" the Master murmured into the Doctor's ear. He was leaning over him, one hand on either side of the Doctor's body so he was sure the man couldn't get away. He laughed. "Oh yes. It was good, wasn't it? We had our sweet, innocent little travels in space and time, but now I can hear the drums again. Louder. So much louder. And I am so, so hungry. And you, pretty boy..." With a dark chuckle, he ran his tongue up the Doctor's cheek. "I could practically eat you up. You might even like it."

The Doctor made an effort to crawl away, but the Master grabbed him by his coat and pulled him back.

"Don't you see there's more than you and me at work here?" the Doctor called out in protest. "You and I could work together again and stop whatever is coming. The Ood talked about something returning."

"And here I am," the Master said as if it was something glorious.

"No, something else, and it's going to be the end of time if I don't stop it. Help me," the Doctor requested.

"Then tell me one thing," the Master demanded. He was glowering at the Doctor. "Can you _hear_ it now? Can you hear the drums?"

The Doctor's face fell. "I can't. I can't hear it."

"It's so loud now. Listen," the Master ordered, but the Doctor shook his head. So the Master grabbed his face and pulled him close. " _Listen_!"

With their foreheads pressed together and the Master's hands on him, channelling, the sound became clear. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. The Doctor pulled away almost instantly and looked at the Master with wide eyes.

"I hear it," he said. "But that's no noise. It's the sound of your own sanity." And he had no way of explaining it. "What's inside your head?" he asked in horror.

The Master could only laugh.

"It's real," he said. He kissed the Doctor hard and shoved him to the ground. "It's real!" he screamed out at the world. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and he ended up with a mix of both. Staggering back, he couldn't stop going on about it. He was so relieved, and still so utterly plagued by the constant noise in his head.

"That means we can fix it," the Doctor went on once he'd picked himself up, but with one leap the Master was already far, far out of reach on a hilltop.

"You thought I was insane! All this time you thought it was just me," the Master yelled at him. "If you want to fix it, you tell me what's calling me, Doctor. What is it? _What is it_?"

The Doctor scrambled to his feet and ran towards him, but someone came up behind the Master and jabbed a syringe in his throat. The Master was knocked out within a second, and the Doctor had no way of catching up. The Master was taken away.

The Doctor wasn't giving up. The Ood had shown him many things, and he just needed to put the pieces together.

*

So it was some rich guy with dreams about keeping his daughter alive forever that had kidnapped him. The Master wouldn't so much mind being held on a leash if they would only feed him. He was starved and he had a hard time not laughing at these idiots who had stolen alien technology and thought they would be able to use it for good.

They had a gate that could heal everyone on the planet, and they wanted the Master to fix it. He was almost giddy as he worked on it. There he was, a new grand plan forming in his head as he worked, and the people watched and they had no idea of what he was making. Stupid humans. He was remembering why he disliked them so much. The Doctor had almost made him forget. Almost. They would be the first ones to go if only because the Doctor loved them so much.

When he was done, he leaned back with his hands behind his back. Until the humans wanted him back in a straight jacket. And he could only grin, even as they buckled it up. Their little tricks were useless. They started powering up the machine, and he was so close.

Of course, his near success was scheduled on top of his Doctor's appointment. The Doctor kicked the door open and stormed in as if he actually had a way of stopping any of this.

"Don't let him anywhere near the gate!"

The Doctor had already been down in the control room and found out what it was thanks to two very helpful cacti people. The Master made a point of rolling his eyes.

"As if they had a chance of stopping me."

The Master ripped the straight jacket to shreds and with one leap he was inside the gate. The Doctor turned to the people around them who were all starting to feel odd.

"What are you doing?" the Doctor demanded, and the Master only laughed.

"You'll see. I reprogrammed it, and oh you are going to like this, Doctor. Only seconds left," the Master yelled. "You love humanity so much, dragged me down here time and again. Watch all of humanity vanish in one go."

The Doctor didn't believe him until he saw the people around him starting to change. Even less did he want to believe what actually happened. They were all turning into the Master and every single one of them laughed with triumph. It was everyone on the entire planet.

The Master stepped out of the gate with a cheeky smile. He walked towards the Doctor and grabbed him by his tie.

"So how do you like the brand new Master Race?" he asked. "Think of all the fun we can have with you now. Pity there's so little of you to go around."

The Doctor would have yelled at him, but he couldn't find words to express how angry he was. The Master shoved him into the arms of another couple of Masters in guard outfits.

"Put the leash on him. That's how I like my pet."

"Master!"

The Master shuddered with delight. "I love it when you use my name like that."

The leash was retrieved and the Doctor was forced to his knees while they put it on. The Master stood in front of him, looking down at him.

"The drums are calling, and we are going to..."

He trailed off. He heard it, and so did the Doctor and every other Master in the vicinity. Something was leaving a trail of fire in the sky and it was about to crash into the ground not far away from them. Perhaps was it the smell, the feeling of it, but the Master was barking orders to find it in an instant. Then he turned back to the Doctor.

"What do you think?" he asked with his smile still in place.

"I think you're brilliant," the Doctor said. "You could be so beautiful if you just turned that talent of yours into something good. I mean it. We can go back to how things used to be. Don't you miss it, even a little?"

The Master looked at him. It was moments like these that the Doctor felt he really was mad; it was impossible to know what was going on in that head of his.

"It's the drums, Doctor. I need to know. And with six billion people listening at once, I should be able to find out exactly what the signal is."

"I could—"

"You didn't even _try_!" the Master yelled at him. "I asked you to promise. To _promise_ me. You promised to fix me and to let me go when the noise went away. I regenerated because you promised, and you didn't even try." He panted hard, worked up with anger and glaring death at the Doctor. He could kill him now. He should kill him now and end this centuries old war between them.

"I'm begging you to—"

"Did you even _want_ to help me?" the Master demanded. "I need to know."

"Yes. Oh yes," the Doctor assured. He looked up at the Master, so concerned and aware of how bad the situation looked. "There was only one thing I wanted more than to help you and it got in the way every time. That's my fault and I should have known better."

"What? What is it you want?" the Master hissed. Their eyes were locked together. There wasn't a moment with the two of them when the room wasn't filled with tension.

"I want you to stay with me," the Doctor said.

"Tch."

The Master turned around and clutched at his head. He let out a noise of frustration and then looked back at the Doctor with another hiss.

"You..."

The Master dropped to his knees and put his hand on either side of the Doctor's face.

"You don't have to say anything," the Doctor told him. He put one hand over the Master's. Whatever their time together in the TARDIS had done to them, it wasn't completely lost. It was struggling to win them both over.

The Master was flickering. Still he was burning up his life force. He gritted his teeth, growling with rage.

"We'll take care of it. I'll take care of it all," the Doctor told him. If the Master would only listen to him and they could salvage this entire situation.

"Doctor. Heh." The Master struggled to keep his composure, but he looked at the Doctor with his smile askew. "If there's one person in all of existence that I—"

"Sir, we found what fell out of the sky," one of the other Masters interrupted. "It was a diamond. A Whitepoint star."

The Master looked at the Doctor. Then he decided. He got up and went to meet his men.

"Give it to me!" he ordered.

"No!" the Doctor shouted. "No, you don't know what you're doing."

"But don't you see? It's all making sense now," the Master said. He looked back at the Doctor and laughed again. "Don't you see how the drums make sense now, calling from the end of time?"

He had the Whitepoint star handed to him by one of the Masters that had been sent out to collect it. Then he went for the gate. He would turn it into a gate _way_ for all of Gallifrey if that was his purpose.

The Doctor struggled to get up and stop him, but a firm yank of his leash and a kick in the back had him on the ground again.

"Don't do this. You have no idea," the Doctor pleaded. "Please, just listen to me."

"But when was the last time you saw me so _happy_?" the Master asked. There was a bright light appearing, and it was the most beautiful thing. "Isn't this glorious?"

"I've seen you happy with me," the Doctor said. His voice was drowned out by the sound of the gateway materializing. They could see the Time Lords approaching. The President and his council first, with the President at the front. And oh, he was looking smug as he saw them.

"My Lord Doctor. And Lord Master. We are gathered for the end."

"You can't," the Doctor protested. He was tugging on the collar, which was almost choking him at this point.

"Ironic that our salvation comes at the hand of our most infamous child," the President said, looking at the Master.

"He's not—!"

"Hush," the Master told him. He looked at the President, glowing with triumph and ambition. "I have turned every human on this planet into me, and I'm going to do the same to all of you. All the Time Lords. You're all going to be me, and I'm going to keep going until there's only me left."

The President's face was going red with fury, and the Master was just grinning.

"Think, Mr. President. Finally you too can look this good."

The President raised his hand. He had a glove that immediately cancelled out the effect of the gate. All the humans were turning back into themselves.

"No, _no_ ," the Master groaned. "No, stop it, no! You're ruining everything."

The Doctor gasped as the leash was let go. With everyone turned back into themselves, he was able to scrabble away.

"I still saved you," the Master pointed out weakly to the President.

The whole place started shaking. The Doctor was getting himself to his feet and between the Master and the Time Lords.

"Don't you see?" he sneered at the Master. "All of Gallifrey is coming. It's returning here, right now."

"And I did it," the Master said. "I did it, and I get the credit," he shouted at the President, while the humans were all running away in fear. Then he glared at the Doctor. "This is fantastic. Time Lords restored. You should be happy."

"You weren't there during the final days of the war," the Doctor gritted out at him. "They want to destroy all of reality and become beings of consciousness alone. They will make all of time end. _Not_ fantastic."

"The Final Sanction," the President said proudly.

"I can be part of that," the Master said. "I want to ascend with you!"

"You are diseased. Be it a disease of our own making," the President spat at him.

The Master's face fell. This was when the Doctor reached into his coat and pulled out the screwdriver. He pointed it at the President.

"What do you intend to do with that?" the President scoffed.

"While he has a point, he's the President. Kill him and you can have all of Gallifrey," the Master encouraged him. The Doctor really ought to start carrying a gun, because that petty sonic device of his was useless.

The Doctor turned around, aiming at the Master instead. Something clicked in the Master's head and he went still. He knew what was going through the Doctor's head.

"Kill me and the connection is cut. I see." The Master's eyes narrowed. "But you wouldn't."

The laser beam from the Master's screwdriver shot right past the Master's ear and at the Whitepoint star. The light from the gate shone brighter than ever and then it started fading.

"The connection is cut," the Doctor said with narrowed eyes. "Back to Gallifrey where you belong."

They were knocked off their feet by the force of the gateway closing. The ground was shaking and windows cracking. They were lying in debris when everything went still. And now it was dead still. Not a sound.

The Doctor lifted his head and looked around. He was alive and unharmed. That was unexpected. Not far away from him was the Master, down on the floor.

*

The Master woke up with a gasp. Not from surprise, but from the shock that was running through all of him. So much energy. It coursed through him, healed him, and then it surged back out. His vision returned. Everything was blurry at first. After a while the roof of the TARDIS began to take form in front of him.

He was lying on his back in the TARDIS. The Doctor was busying about with some cables, until he realized the Master was awake. Then he leaned over him, glasses in place.

"I used energy from the TARDIS' time vortex to restore your body. You should have stabilized by now, but... No more superpowers, I'm afraid."

"Gallifrey is gone?" the Master whispered. It took a while before he got a reply.

"Yes," the Doctor answered. He didn't meet the Master's eyes.

"You took my screwdriver," the Master accused. He was completely exhausted, and hungry. He had a feeling that this time, he might actually be able to still the hunger, though.

"You were dead," the Doctor reminded him. He stroked the Master's hair back, looking over him with worry. "You seem to have gotten better, though."

"I did," the Master agreed with a slight smile. He closed his eyes again. He was too tired to keep them open. Too tired to talk, too tired to think. He felt the Doctor's arms around him, pulling him close and holding him. He turned his face against the Doctor's chest and let himself be held. "It's so quiet," he said.

"Yes, I suppose it is, yeah," the Doctor agreed, shrugging.

"I mean the drumming." The Master's eyes shot open and he sat upright. "The drumming is gone."

"We broke the connection. That, or you can always count on the TARDIS and I to fix everything," the Doctor said proudly. "You don't hear it anymore? At all?"

The Master shook his head and scrambled to his feet. "No, it's just... It's just silent." He didn't know what to do. He looked at the Doctor in panic. "It's gone."

The Doctor got up as well. The Master looked to him with hesitation.

"I haven't forgotten," the Doctor assured. "I promised you were free to go when the noise was gone." Hands down his pockets, he glanced to the floor, and quickly back up at him. "I did a horrible job helping you, didn't I?"

The Master shrugged.

"I'll keep the second part of my promise, but I'm taking you away from Earth. The human race has had enough to deal with from you," the Doctor said with one lecturing finger pointed at him.

"You know I never felt like a prisoner here," the Master muttered, not looking at the other.

"Good, good," the Doctor said. He was trying his best to sound unaffected by the whole thing. "That's good, that is. Tell you what, let's find somewhere safe to put you."

"I'm not going anywhere," the Master said.

The Doctor looked at him with pleading eyes. Now was not the time to be difficult. This was difficult enough as it was, but the Master insisted on making it that much more painful.

"Your wife is dead, everyone here knows your face. You won't be safe anywhere."

The Master closed the gap between them with one step and hugged the Doctor around his waist firmly. "Shut up and take us somewhere nice."

The Doctor didn't do anything. He looked down at the Master. While as he placed one hand on the Master's back, he was frowning. When the Master tilted his head up, he was despairing.

"You can forgive me again, right? I wanted to be with the Time Lords. So what? You would have, too, if you were in my shoes. And turning all of humanity into me... Well, it was good fun, wasn't it?"

"We can't keep doing this."

"I know." The Master turned his gaze back down, pressing his cheek to the Doctor's chest.

The Doctor sighed and rested his chin on the top of the Master's head. He held him closer, even rocking him gently. It was more for his own comfort than for the Master's. "I don't know what to do about you," he whispered. "Nothing's going to make up for the things we've done to each other, to those around us."

"I'm better when I'm with you, though."

That was, in every way, true. They had been so close to achieving something before the Master was shot. With the drums gone, perhaps he was a changed man. If not, then it was still the Doctor's duty to prevent him from doing any more harm. He would gladly take that upon himself.

"I want to go with you," the Master said more firmly. "Let me come with you."

"You're coming with me," the Doctor assured. "Whatever happens between you and me, there is always a place for you in the TARDIS."

The Master relaxed. While it wouldn't be a good idea to say it out loud, the Doctor's heartbeat so reminded him of the drums. Their eyes met again, and they knew there was one question left, about what happened next between them.

"I still hate you," the Master told him.

The Doctor's lips tugged into a bright smile. "Oh, you do know how to make me laugh."

"I mean it," the Master scoffed. "You got in my way _again_. What am I supposed to do with you?"

"I ask myself the same." The Doctor leaned down and kissed the Master, to no objections. He kissed him right back and put a hand on the Doctor's shoulder.

"It's a very different kind of hate than it used to be," the Master muttered after the kiss.

"Because when you say 'hate', you really mean something else entirely?" the Doctor asked.

"Something like that."

The Doctor knew that, and he could do nothing but smile at the Master before he ran over to the control panel. "Help me out here, then. The TARDIS doesn't fly itself."

"Where are we going?" the Master asked, perking up.

"Wherever we want to go." The Doctor pulled a big lever with force and yelled out. "Allons-y!"

 


	2. The Master Who Waited

They were a thing to be taken for granted, as far as their hazardous lives would allow for. Despite constant arguing and frequent disasters, they couldn't imagine going anywhere without each other. It was hard to say how many places they'd been, how much time had passed.

The Doctor had his arm around the Master's shoulders, to the Master's eternal grudge. The Doctor knew he hated coddling in public. They were in the year 2517, on what was did not look as much as a space station as a dump. It was packed with people, trade and entertainment, and the Doctor loved every second of it. This was culture, he insisted, something the Master openly laughed at.

"...Proof of alien life! This will change you for the rest of your life. We are not alone!"

There was a man calling out. He sold tickets to an exhibition. The Doctor and the Master exchanged looks and tried not to smirk. Humans hadn't discovered alien life yet, so this had to be a treat. The Master let the Doctor pay.

It was all very dark and foreboding inside the tiny room of the exhibition. The Doctor didn't let go of the Master. Here they were alone and screened from the squabbling of the crowds outside. They looked at the single, lit tank in front of them and the creature inside of it.

"Cow foetus?"

"Mutated cow foetus."

Both amused, they couldn't help smiling in the dark of the room. The dead foetus had no comment whatsoever.

"This is almost a little romantic," the Master accused the Doctor.

"It's cruel, that's what it is!" the Doctor protested.

The Master pinched the Doctor's ass. He furrowed his brows and said nothing. By now, the Doctor was used to it. Something else caught his attention and he slipped a hand inside his coat.

"Oh, what now?"

"Message on the psychic paper," the Doctor explained. He read the message, one brow arching up a bit further for every word. "Are you sending me dirty messages on the psychic paper again?" he asked.

"It wasn't me this time," the Master assured. He peeked over at the paper and his face fell into a frown.

"Then I suppose Jack needs help. Time to be on our way."

"Been long since I saw him," the Master remarked as he shuffled after the Doctor.

"Yes, let's not have a repeat of last time."

"I told you, I thought he _liked_ bondage."

"You tortured him," the Doctor reminded. "For a year."

"It never happened. He remembers it, but technically it never happene—Oh, great."

The door to the TARDIS had slammed right in front of him.

"She's doing it again!" the Master called out. He knocked at the door with his fist a couple of times, then folded his arms and waited for the Doctor to convince her to let him in. The TARDIS hadn't exactly grown fond of him during their travels.

Once the TARDIS had been sufficiently coddled by the Doctor, the two Time Lords were on their way to Cardiff and the 21st century. They frequently landed on Roald Dahl Plass to refuel and knew what to expect, but never had they stopped for longer than they had to. Unless Jack needed help, the Doctor wasn't going to expose him to the Master.

They were both surprised to find that the place had been levelled. More than levelled. Where the Torchwood institute should have been, there was a deep crater. While as there was no love lost between the Doctor and Torchwood, this was cause for concern.

*

Finding Jack had proven to be a delicate task. They weren't the only ones searching for Torchwood but they had something the government didn't; a big, blue box. They had gotten in touch with Jack and agreed to meet. The TARDIS materialized in an abandoned building as close to Thames House as they dared. The Doctor wasn't complaining about being back in London and he greeted Jack with as bright of a smile as ever when they stepped out on the dusty floor.

"Doctor!" Jack exclaimed. He pulled the Doctor into a hug, giddy in a way that neither Gwen nor Ianto had seen before. The two were measuring the Doctor up and down, both having thought that the man Jack always went on about would have looked a lot more impressive and a lot less geeky.

"You're the Doctor." Gwen stated. When the Doctor turned to talk to her, she punched him. "Where the Hell have you been?" she screeched at him. "Jack whines about you coming to rescue us and it _never_ happens. It's about bloody time you showed up!"

The Doctor had doubled over. The Master was quick to put a hand on his shoulder, but he was quite amused.

"Welsh, is she?" the Doctor grunted before he straightened up.

"This happens to you a lot; women punching you," the Master commented.

Ianto and Jack were horrified at Gwen, but Jack snapped out of it when he saw who the Doctor's companion was.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Jack asked, immediately going defensive. He was aware that the Doctor had taken the Master along in the TARDIS, but he had expected him to be kept locked up. Frozen down. Immobilized and forgotten in a corner. "Doctor, why is he walking around like a free man?"

Gwen and Ianto didn't understand the animosity and looked at Jack with confusion. Jack knew best, but they hadn't heard any mentions of this man.

"Evil rehab," the Master explained. "It's not working out too well," he added with a cheeky smile. "It's not like any of it actually happened."

"And still I remember it so well," Jack said with a forced, near threatening smile. "A year of bondage doesn't sound too bad in retrospect, but I could have done without the torture and death."

Ianto cleared his throat in a light manner, drawing everyone's attention. "We can't stay here. I suggest we brief them about the current threat and don't waste any more time." He looked at Jack with worry, then at the Master with a hint of disgust.

"You're jealous," the Master hissed at Ianto.

"Alright, introductions everyone," the Doctor broke in. "I am the Doctor, and this is the Master. He travels with me and his bark is usually worse than his bite."

"That's a lie," the Master informed.

Jack's lips curled with distaste before he introduced his team. "Gwen Cooper and Ianto Jones. We are all that's left of Torchwood Cardiff."

"Jones? Nothing to do with the Jones who gave me so much trouble?" the Master asked with suspicion.

Ianto looked mildly confused. "I wouldn't know. I don't think I—?"

Jack was between Ianto and the Master, pointing one threatening finger at the Time Lord. "You stay away from him."

"Oh, touchy," the Master singsonged.

Nothing more was said between them while Jack explained to the Doctor about the aliens that had just landed.

"They took twelve children last time. Now they are back for more."

"You traded the lives of twelve children for a flu vaccine. With aliens," the Doctor repeated, looking at Jack with disapproval.

"Twenty-five million would have died from Indonesian flu," Jack protested. "They said the children would be taken good care of. That they would live forever."

"And that always works out for the better," the Doctor said with a meaningful look at Jack. "You are hunted by the law and aliens want your children. I need to have a talk with these aliens. Who are they?"

"We call them the 456," Ianto informed. "We don't know who they are."

The Doctor looked frustrated, but they all knew what he was capable of. Having him around shifted the odds considerably in their favour.

"I will talk to them and give them one chance to retreat. Only one, but I need to know more about them first."

"We have already given them more than enough chances," Jack insisted.

The Doctor knew Jack was making this personal, but he tried to be considerate. If he was taking over this situation, he would need Torchwood's complete cooperation and all the information he could have. The only thing Torchwood ever did, as he had experienced, was to get in the way.

They were taken to Torchwood's current headquarters. Little more than a warehouse full of computers. The Master didn't like any of it, especially not how the Doctor and Jack were talking about their adventures together, about what the Doctor had been up to, about Martha's time in Torchwood. Even about their time fighting against him. Of course, he preferred a reputation of being bad, but he was feeling left out. No one ever let him brag about the things he'd done.

Another person who wasn't happy with this joyful reminiscing was Ianto Jones, but he had different reasons for being displeased with Jack making googly eyes at the Doctor.

*

Sleeping at the Torchwood headquarters was terrible. They didn't really have beds. The Master hated it almost as much as he hated waking up with his hand cuffed to a pipe. It could have been the start of an interesting morning, but with his trousers on and the Doctor nowhere in sight, that was out of the question.

"What is going on?" he yelled out while he pulled at the cuffs. It wasn't long before his angry shouts were answered. Gwen peeked over the top of her computer.

"The government is giving up the children. Jack ran in there to stop them before the Doctor could prevent him," she said. "He said it was best if you couldn't follow."

The Master let out a frustrated sneer. He yanked at the cuffs a few more times before he dug around in his jacket for the laser screwdriver. It cut the cuffs off and he was immediately over Gwen.

"Where did they go?" he demanded. " _Tell me_."

He caught a glimpse of Gwen's computer screen where a live feed from Thames House was up. He could see the glass cage containing the 456. His hearts sank, and he didn't hang around to watch. He was on his way to the Thames House.

Long before he arrived, Jack and Ianto had already gotten in. Jack was furious that their government had allowed for such a deal and he had gone right up to the 456 and told them the deal was off. The entire building had been sealed and the Doctor barely had time to make it inside. He had a gas mask in his hand, having a good idea of what these aliens would do. He trusted Jack would be fine and had hoped to drag him out before it would even go this far. Then he saw Ianto.

There was so many people inside the house, the Doctor couldn't possibly get them all out in time. He shoved the gas mask into Ianto's hands and approached the tank with the 456.

"Doctor, what's—?"

"Put the mask on," the Doctor snapped. "I address the 456, or whatever your true name is. By the Order of the..."

He coughed. Doubling over, he grabbed for his screwdriver. He pointed it at a window, unlocking the shields that had gone down. He could feel the virus inside him, heard the screams and panic out in the hall. This had been stupid. They had all been stupid.

It wouldn't kill him as quickly as it killed off the humans. Together he and Ianto dragged Jack out of the window and onto the grass outside. Jack would be alright, but it was insufferable to the Doctor, knowing the last thing he'd done was to fail so many people. He buckled and fell over.

When the Master showed up, he was nothing but a blur in the Doctor's eyes. The Doctor reached one hand out, dropped the screwdriver and fumbled until he found the Master's cheek.

"You're alright?"

"Shut up. You cuffed me to the bed!" the Master snarled. He was angry. He was infuriated. He took the Doctor in his arms and held him tight enough to squeeze the remaining life out of him.

"I don't want to die. I don't want to regenerate," the Doctor complained. He held onto the Master in turn. It wasn't fair. He'd die and someone else would take the Master in their arms. Someone who was him, but not really him at all.

The Master didn't know what to say. The Doctor never said things like that. He never protested out loud or showed any sort of dread. He was doing all of that, now. The Master had no way of handling it. He looked to Jack, who was dead and being fussed over by Ianto. Jack would revive and be just the same. Jack was the lucky bastard who never had to die or change.

The light began surging around the Doctor's body. Into and from and around, the golden threads wormed their way around his body. The Master scrabbled away, still sitting on the ground and watching.

The Doctor was fighting the regeneration. While he would never let himself just die permanently, he didn't want to change either. For a moment the Master was worried the regeneration would go wrong, but that's when the explosion of golden light began and the Doctor changed before his eyes.

He'd seen many of the Doctor's incarnations. He knew the man would be different. Still, it was odd to see an entirely new man, hardly filling out the clothes of the already lanky Doctor. The man who had been so afraid of dying was now gone, replaced with what was hardly more than a boy.

The Doctor was high on regeneration energy and jumped to his feet to check out his new features.

"Hands, legs, ears. I've been lucky yet again. Still not ginger, though. Ginger hair keeps eluding me. Now, I really need to get into something more fitting. Master, I have a faint idea that the TARDIS needs our attention so we'll be on our way. Chop chop. No time to sit about."

The Master let the new Doctor's rant go in one ear and out the other. It wasn't before the Doctor collapsed from exhaustion that he felt he ought to do something. Picking himself up, he kneeled down by the Doctor who was laying face-down in the grass.

"He's become a moron. Wonderful," he gritted out.

He heard Jack gasp as he came back to life. Not wanting to hang around for hugs and kisses, the Master grabbed the Doctor by his arms and made to haul him back to the TARDIS. Before they could get there, the Doctor had another surge of energy and was running about down the street for almost a minute before exhaustion took over once more.

When they got to the TARDIS, the Master had the Doctor leaning on one of his shoulders. The TARDIS was smoking and sizzling. Something about the unwanted regeneration had screwed it up. When the doors were opened, they could see that the interior was working on rearranging itself completely.

"Oh, but she's beautiful. Isn't she beautiful? She's a sexy thing and you know it," the Doctor said with a grin while he clung onto the doorframe.

"I liked the old desktop," the Master muttered. "And you forget about the 456."

They had left Jack and Ianto on the lawn to take care of themselves. Not that the Master minded, but he had thought the Doctor would. Except the Doctor gave him a very stern look at this point.

"No," he said.

"No?" The Master looked at him with interest.

"This one time, I am leaving this in Torchwood's hands," the Doctor said. "The government are the ones who handed over the children in the first place. And moronic as that was, Jack will find a way to set things right. I have faith in him. Even more so, I am simply useless right now."

The Master shrugged. "If you say so." He was truly thrilled to just leave the humans to their own fate. Maybe he had some influence on the Doctor, finally. Still, something wasn't right. When he looked at the Doctor, he couldn't really see the Doctor any more.

"Number eleven, is it?" he asked.

"Yes. Nothing wrong with that, I hope," the Doctor said. There was a slightly nervous smile on his lips.

The Doctor shouldn't look nervous like that. It was wrong. It was all wrong in every way. The young face, the cheekbones, the chin and everything. The Master had really grown fond of the tenth Doctor's nose.

"Look, nothing has changed," the Doctor insisted. He could guess what was going through the Master's head. "You have seen me in other bodies. I've seen you in other bodies. Really, I've even seen you as a rotting corpse, a husk—and let me tell you, decay does not look good on you—but you don't hear me complaining."

"It's not the same as if I would regenerate now," the Master pointed out.

The Doctor was getting petulant. "All the time we spent together, we did that together you and me." He gripped harder onto the doorframe of the TARDIS. Biting his lip, he stared at the Master, beckoning him to come inside with him. "What, does that suddenly not count anymore? It's not like you're human. You're used to this. You know who I am, no matter what I look like. You and I will always recognize each other."

"A little _boy_ like you is nothing like the Doctor I knew," the Master scoffed. "You were goddamn awful and old from time to time, but this is ridiculous. Overcompensation, that's what it is."

"You have nothing to say on the matter. You used up one regeneration cycle already. How many times is that? Do remind me, because it sounds something like _too many_. You should be the last one to lecture people about regenerating. So what if I'm not a frail old man? I might be a little younger, but I am still the Doctor."

The Master huffed. Shaking his head, he made to turn around.

"You're not _my_ Doctor."

The Doctor refused to believe this. The Master hadn't even tried to get used to him. Taking the Master by his shoulders, he held him back. He kissed him with determination, intent on making the man realize that he was the same. He felt everything that his previous regeneration had felt.

When they parted, the Doctor was breathless. The regeneration had left him so weak, and holding the Master back took all his strength. He looked at the Master, almost pleading.

The Master licked his lips, and then he turned on his heel.

"The teeth are all wrong, now."

The Doctor refused to look at the Master walking away from him.

"I could have been dead! Would that have made you any happier?"

Angry, he slammed the door. Then he fell over the TARDIS dashboard in exhaustion. The panel was smoking and emitting sparks, and the kitchen had crashed through a wall and into the tennis court. Not good. Not good at all. He bit down all the hurt and rage that was trying to force its way out of him. He had been betrayed, and he wasn't staying around for the Master to change his mind.

He piloted the TARDIS on his own, and he wouldn't be shouting _allons-y_ ever again if he could help it.

As soon as the TARDIS took off, it was obvious that something was terribly wrong. The thing plummeted through time and space, throwing him around like a ragdoll. He was having a great time, forgetting about the Master and ending up face-down in the pool by the time the TARDIS had crash-landed in someone's backyard. When he had managed to climb all the way up to the door and scrabbled out of the machine, he was on an adrenaline high.

This was good. This was great. Now he just needed to fix the TARDIS and he could be off again. New desktop, new screwdriver, new face. Surely he could forget the Master if he only found something to distract him. Before that, though, he needed food. He was starved. Energy completely burnt up. He was lying on his back and could hardly move an inch, he was simply too tired.

"What are you doing in my garden?"

He looked up to see a little girl with bright red hair. She sounded Scottish.

"Taking a nap?" he suggested. It only made her frown.

"Who are you?" she asked, all the more insistent.

Now, he had to smile, because he knew that she'd be confused at first and then she would believe him completely. None of this rubbish about wrong teeth.

"I'm the Doctor," he told her.

*

Amy Pond was a brilliant girl. She was about to get married, and while the Doctor didn't at all approve of her jumping him that one night, he took a silent pride in making her adore him so much. Enough to question her wedding. It was a small comfort that made him forget about the Master at least for a little while, but it came to the point where he had to remind her that she had a fiancé.

Rory Williams joined them, and the Doctor was quite happy to be travelling with the pair. They looked after each other and cared for each other like he could only dream of with the Master. Not that he would ever say _that_ out loud. Amy and Rory reminded him of why he and the Master was a terrible idea to begin with.

There was another concern to preoccupy him, and that was the time rift that kept stalking them like a supernatural phenomenon on legs. He hoped it wasn't the doing of the Master, because that would be too typical. While he didn't doubt they would be fighting each other again, now was too soon.

Paying only the necessary amount of attention to the rift, the three of them were out on their adventures in time and space. The Doctor had exposed Amy to Daleks, Weeping Angels and the general stupidity of colonists, and he didn't go any easier on the pair when Rory joined the crew. They had a run-in with buxom alien fish in Venice, and it only got better from there on.

It went right. They had a good time together, then Amy and Rory went back home and got married. They moved to a nice little village and Amy was about to have a child. They hadn't been destroyed like everyone else who had travelled with him. No, it was almost too idyllic to be true when the Doctor landed in the TARDIS for a visit.

The only thing that really threw him off was Rory's ponytail, but he tried to be polite. They shared stories, laughed together, took a walk in the pleasant weather. Considering how isolated and small the village was, the Doctor was truly surprised when he saw a very familiar figure approaching fast.

The Master ran into him and they hugged each other so tightly. It didn't matter that they'd argued; they were here, together again. The Doctor could barely resist the urge to kiss the Master right before his companions, but he had a mind not to.

"Doctor. I'm sorry, Doctor," the Master said. He held onto the Doctor's jacket and it was all very heartfelt for a moment before they woke up.

On the floor of the TARDIS, the three of them were alone. The Doctor, Amy and Rory. They sat up, and after a bit of confusion they didn't take long in finding out that they'd all had the same dream. It was all very weird.

"So, Doctor," Amy said with her hands on her hips. "Who was that, then?"

"Who?" the Doctor asked. He was good at acting like he had no idea what she was talking about.

"The pretty blond one with the nice legs."

"I don't want to talk about it," the Doctor muttered. "But he has, hasn't he?"

Rory looked at Amy with a small frown.

"What?"

The TARDIS powered down. They were being hurled towards a sun and they had nothing to protect them. Falling asleep again was an irresistible idea. They were sitting on a bench, now. The Doctor had his head rested in the Master's lap. His eyes shot open and he was quick to sit up before Rory and Amy came to.

"You've become shyer than ever," the Master said with a smirk at the Doctor. "I can like that."

The Doctor looked at the other Time Lord. The Master was as sleazy as before. It felt real.

"You decided on coming back, then?" he asked.

The Master shrugged and looked away. "I... It was rash. I could _try_ and get used to your new face."

"It's the only decent thing to do," the Doctor agreed. "But you're not decent."

The Master glared at him.

"Doctor, what's going on?" Amy broke in. "Did we all just fall asleep?"

"Amy, could you take Rory and go back inside? I'll be right with you, I promise, but he and I have something to talk about," the Doctor said.

They were puzzled, but didn't argue. Once it was just the two of them sitting on the bench, the Doctor turned to the Master with an apologetic look on his face.

"I am sorry about all of this. I probably let you down, but I didn't mean to. You know I didn't mean to."

"I know. We are both so stubborn, but after thinking about it, I know there's no going back. You made me _better_ , Doctor. You fixed me," the Master said. "And you'll always make me better. It doesn't matter that you regenerated."

It was exactly what the Doctor needed to hear. He put his arms around the Master's waist and leaned against him.

"I missed you," he said. "Even if it's usually disastrous when you're around. It's a bit like the TARDIS' chameleon circuit. It's broken, but I like it better that way."

The Master laughed. "I missed you, too," he said. He took the Doctor's hand and smiled at him. "Now we can be off in the TARDIS again, and it's going to be like nothing ever happened."

Like nothing ever happened. The Doctor fell asleep to those words, and he woke up with a smile that quickly vanished. There was a man there with them. One who called himself the Dream Lord. They were spinning towards the sun and unless they found out which world was real, they were going to die. When next they woke up in the village, there were old people possessed by aliens everywhere, and they turned people to dust.

Together they were running, the Doctor and the Master, trying to get to Amy and Rory in time. When they got there it was already too late. Amy was sobbing over the little pile of dust that was Rory, and she marched the Doctor outside to a car. The Master was feverishly trying to hold the Doctor back.

"She wants to kill you!" the Master protested.

"I don't want to live in a world without him. This _can't_ be the real world," Amy raged as she pulled at the Doctor's arm. The Master pulled at the other arm, just as insistent.

"He is _my_ Doctor," the Master hissed.

"Stop it, both of you!" the Doctor yelled. They let go. He almost fell over, then dusted his jacket off. He looked to Amy. "This is your choice," he said and sighed. "Amy's choice. This world might be real, be warned."

"I can't take that chance," she said. Her eyes were filled with tears, but she caught sight of the Master's devastated expression and she looked to the Doctor. "You don't have to come with me."

"No, Amy. I do. I really do," the Doctor said. He glanced over at the Master with uncertainty. "I want you as my companion so badly and here you are. It's too good to be true. All of..." He waved in the Master's general direction.

"Does any of that matter so long as we've found each other again?" the Master asked.

The Doctor's eyes softened, and then he got into the car.

"Drive, Pond."

Amy took a quick glance at the Master before she got the car in gear and slammed the gas pedal down. The Doctor caught a glimpse of the Master in the mirror and was quick to close his eyes.

"He wouldn't have said that. He would never have said that," he told himself in a final attempt at assuring himself this was all a dream. Then the car slammed into the side of a building and they died.

When they woke up in the TARDIS, it was just three of them again. The Doctor, Amy and Rory. The Doctor's face fell into a frown, but as soon as the TARDIS powered back up and the Dream Lord congratulated them, he was up on his feet.

"Oh, no. I know who you are now," he said with a sneer at the Dream Lord. "And I know what this TARDIS has that a real TARDIS doesn't."

He hit the self-destruct button. It looked rather like a jammy dodger. They all died.

Waking up for real this time, the three took a moment to pick themselves up. Amy was clinging onto Rory and the Doctor let the two of them have their moment while he thought about the dream. The Master in his dreams was something quite different. Loving. Concerned. Probably boring to spend an eternity with. There was something about self-destruction that never grew old.

"Who was that man?" Amy asked once she was done kissing Rory all over.

"You shouldn't think about that," the Doctor said. When he turned around and faced her, he had a smile on his lips again. "Now. I am thinking of somewhere far away in the distant future. Nothing better to take the edge off a near death experience than encountering alien species with unknown intentions," he said. Before the couple could say anything, he was already running about the control panel and piloting with his usual grace.

*

It was long before the Doctor wanted to go anywhere near Earth again. They had been travelling for a couple of months when the TARDIS more or less demanded they return. The Doctor tried very hard to keep her from bringing them down against his will, but she was insistent. This resulted in a violent landing in China. The better part of a cheap motel was reduced to splinters as the TARDIS crashed in.

The Doctor was mildly amused when he stepped out of the TARDIS, despite his unwillingness to go there in the first place. He had mixed feelings when he saw Jack, but he brightened up nevertheless.

"Jack. Here I was worried when I left you on your own," the Doctor said with a laugh. "It worked out with the...?"

Jack's lips twitched as he recalled how the world had been saved, without the help of the Doctor.

"Thank you for saving Ianto," was all he said before he gave the man a hug. Next he was introduced to Amy and Rory.

"And where exactly are we?" the Doctor asked.

"Shanghai. The world needs rescuing again," Jack explained. "Come on in, I think our room might still be intact. Gwen is scouting ahead and Ianto is getting us ready for tonight's operation."

The Doctor sent Jack a sharp look.

"Saving the world," Jack insisted and shepherded them inside before anyone noticed them. "Maybe it's a good time you arrived, Doctor." Jack looked at him over his shoulder. "I've become mortal. The rest of the world... They've become me."

The Doctor was taken aback. "Everyone's immortal?"

"We have discovered something called the Blessing," Jack explained after they had shut the door behind them. "It's what made it all possible, but it needs to be stopped. The government is taking charge over who gets to live or die. They are burning people alive."

"Hello." Ianto greeted them with a wave and a cup of coffee.

The TARDIS appeared to have thrown them right into another Torchwood mess, but the Doctor wasn't walking out on them this time, as much as it held bad memories. After convincing Amy and Rory to stay at the motel, the Doctor was headed towards the Blessing together with Jack, Ianto and Gwen. To the Torchwood team, there was a familiar run-in with Jilly Kitsinger, together with a woman called the Mother. While unfamiliar to the Doctor, he had an idea that they were in trouble when several armed guards had them at gunpoint.

They were shown the Blessing. A massive chasm that the Families had introduced to Jack's blood, and it had made everyone immortal. Only mortal blood would be able to set the effect back to normal. The Mother was ready to have them all killed when someone ordered her to be quiet.

The Doctor's head whipped around at the familiar sound. Down the stairs came the Master, back in his spot free suit and with his hands down his pockets. He looked so casual about the whole thing.

"Fancy seeing you here, Eleven."

"Mr. Saxon, this really isn't any of your business," the Mother said, but the uncertainty in her voice suggested she didn't know whether she actually had the authority to say that.

"My name is the Master," the Master said without taking his eyes off the Doctor. It was very quiet in the room by now.

"I knew we couldn't trust him," Jack muttered to the Doctor. "You trusted him?"

"Of course I trusted him," the Doctor gritted out in return. "Master, are you involved in this?"

"Involved?"

The Master laughed. He wasn't telling the guards to put their guns down. With a smirk, he stepped up to the Doctor, enjoying the sight of them all with their hands over their heads.

"Why, I told them how to use the Blessing, about Jack and what his blood might do."

Rage flickered over the faces of every Torchwood member.

"You're the cause of all this," Gwen screeched. "My _dad_ , you son of a bitch."

"Don't be ridiculous," the Mother said. "It was the Families who organized it all. We found a way of turning it into profit, into control. Mr. Saxon only—"

"My name. Is the _Master_."

The Master shoved her over the railing. With a scream, she fell. The Blessing didn't seem too interested in taking her in. It was just an endless chasm for her to explore in freefall.

The Doctor stared at the Master, mouth open. The Master turned to him with a sneer.

"When you left, I didn't have anything. The drums were gone, you were gone. I couldn't show myself in public, so I couldn't act out in the open. I found the Families."

"You tried to take over the world again," the Doctor said. "This is getting old. I mean, you could always take over a nice holiday resort with far less effort. A holiday would do you good. When was the last time you went to a beach?"

He was cut short as the Master took hold of his face and forced him to meet his eyes. "You're coming with me," he said. Dragging the Doctor with him towards the lift, he signalled for the men to shoot. The Doctor protested, but the Master had his laser screwdriver pressing into the Doctor's back. As soon as the lift was on its way up, the Master shoved the Doctor up against the wall.

"You. I knew you would come as soon as I started something. Destroying Earth is a sure-fire way of making you pop up."

"You wanted me here?" the Doctor asked. He was more concerned with the people that had been left downstairs. "Master. Don't do this, we can still go back," he pleaded. "Don't let them be killed."

The Master furrowed his brows. "I am telling you I waited for you, and you are more concerned with them? Did you even think about me once?"

"I did," the Doctor assured. "But you're a murderer, and I'll never stand for that no matter how much I..."

"No matter how much you what?" the Master asked through gritted teeth. "Don't you see I did this for you? Out of generosity? You love the filth that crawls around on this planet. Well, I gave them the option of becoming immortal, how about that? They wouldn't have to die. None of your precious human lives would be lost ever again. What they decided on using it for is their own problem."

The Doctor couldn't believe his ears. He was forced out of the lift, which descended down behind them. They were up in the cold night air. Reunion was nothing like what he had wanted, yet everything he should have expected.

"Master. If you wanted to do me a favour, you would leave them alone," the Doctor said. Firm eyes met those of the Master. It turned into a glaring contest. "What you did wasn't generosity or, or good, not in any way. This is just what I can expect from you. Why would you even want me back here?"

The Master was surprised at the Doctor's reaction. It wasn't such a big deal, after all. Just a few humans and a lot of trauma for the World.

"There's a rift in Time," he said bluntly. "And I wasn't worried or anything," he added. "But that's a bad thing. It could be bad for all of us, even me."

"You're trying to save your own neck," the Doctor hissed. He was angry and he didn't want to acknowledge that the Master had been worried about him. It was quiet underground, now. No more shooting. The Doctor was faced with the man he could only dream about, and he tried so hard not to hate him.

The Master was looking him up and down in turn, seeing him in his new clothes for the first time. "I didn't think it was possible for you to get any scrawnier," he commented. "And I miss the tie."

"Hey." The Doctor's voice had a warning tone to it. "Bowties are cool."

The Master didn't look convinced. "Either way, you have to agree that this wasn't my fault."

"The people who died down there are your fault."

Right then, there was a massive explosion while the lift appeared topside once more. Jack, Ianto, Gwen and Kitsinger had all made it to the surface. The Doctor and the Master stared in disbelief. Explosives had been laid out around the Blessing, and it would be buried at this point. The world was returning to normal. Gwen was desperately trying to call her father, Ianto had submitted to Jack's tight embrace, both so relieved.

The Doctor and the Master looked at each other, and the Master shrugged.

"No real harm done."

"It's not just you. What the humans have done to themselves..."

The Doctor looked disgusted. He didn't want to stay. Without even asking, he took the Master by his upper arm and marched him back to the motel and into the TARDIS. Amy and Rory were likely in bed, leaving the two on their own for a little while longer. The Doctor turned on the Master, lecturing.

"You're still dangerous on your own. I'm not giving you a choice this time."

The Master looked around with a slight nod. "I can get used to being back."

There was a moment of silence between them where they refused to meet each other's eyes. It was the Doctor who finally spoke.

"How long was it for you? How long were you stuck here waiting?" he asked.

The Master shrugged, arms crossed over his chest. "A year. But really, what is a year to our kind? And you?"

"Some months. There's a couple travelling with me, and you are going to be nice to them. Amy Pond joined me right after you left." He hope the comment stung. "Then her fiancé, Rory, a while back."

"Fiancé," the Master repeated. He had to laugh at the Doctor. He shook his head. "Is this how you deal with breakups? Screw up other people's marriage?"

"Now hold on just a minute. No one said anything about a breakup," the Doctor reminded him.

"I left you," the Master said, incredulous.

"No one ever said anything about us being... something. Anything. In the first place. You need to actually have something that can be broken up."

The Doctor couldn't meet the Master's eyes. The look he was given was simply intolerable. It made him ashamed and embarrassed.

"Ah. Haha. I shouldn't have said that, should I? I mean, no one _said_ anything, that's all I was saying."

"Congratulations," the Master said coldly. "You have more problems with commitment than I do." He scoffed. "I'm taking my room back if you're keeping me prisoner again."

"I'm not..."

The Doctor trailed off as the Master stomped up the stairs and vanished into the halls of the TARDIS. They were back to old tracks, and the Doctor had to remind himself that they had actually been enemies at one point in order to keep his face straight. The Master could huff and puff all he liked, but it was denial, nothing else.

The Doctor wondered whether he ought to go after him when the Master reappeared. He leaned onto the railing and glared down at the Doctor.

"She moved the room."

"Just a little present from her to welcome you back," the Doctor said. His lips quirked into a smile whether he wanted them to or not. The smile served to piss the Master off even further.

*

"Vincent van Gogh. One of the greatest painters that ever lived. You will love this," the Doctor assured. He had spent the morning getting Amy and Rory all riled up about seeing him when the Master walked into the control room. He was in the middle of straightening his tie.

"Painters; drugs and alcoholism. I always liked those," he said. "Your new companions, are they?" He nodded to Amy and Rory with a scornful smirk.

"Oi, Doctor, isn't that the—"

"I still don't want to talk about it, Pond. Thank you," the Doctor said in a pleasant tone to Amy.

"Talk about what?" the Master asked.

"Nothing. Amy, Rory, this is the Master. We picked him up last night and he will be joining us for a bit."

Amy and the Master both looked at the Doctor in a manner that would have made a lesser man's skin crawl. The Master was aghast at the idea of the Doctor picking him up. Amy hadn't for a second thought the Doctor would just invite someone else to join them without saying a word.

"The Master?" Rory asked. "Not like that Dream Lord version of you I hope."

The Master raised his brows at the Doctor.

"Remind me, why are we having this conversation?" the Doctor asked. "I told you we weren't going to have it. Forget about it. Is it just me, or is it getting crowded in here? Treat each other as friends and it will all be fine. Now, Vincent van Gogh everyone?"

The party would have protested, but the TARDIS shook. They landed, and the Doctor was on his way out the door.

"Ah. France, 1890. Not a good time and place to be van Gogh, but this is where we will find him."

"Yes, Eleven. You would take us to a painter who was mad and killed himself," the Master commented. Hands in his pockets, he was strolling down the street after the three others and taking in the environment. It wasn't by far a bad place, but he trusted the Doctor to get them tangled up in something lethal.

"How is he anything like the man we saw in the dream?" Rory muttered to Amy. She already disliked the Master because of the way he acted towards the Doctor.

"Don't know. The Doctor made him seem like such a sweet guy," she said with a sharp look at the Doctor's back.

"He _what_? What have you been telling them?" the Master asked. He caught up with the Doctor and glared up at him.

"It's a long story," the Doctor said, clearing his throat. "You see, I created this dream world. Unintentionally of course. We were trapped, and you were there. You were wonderfully sane and not as aggressive by far. They got the wrong first impression, very wrong, should have warned them."

The Master narrowed his eyes at him. "That explains so much."

"What? It doesn't explain anything. What would it explain?" the Doctor asked.

"You still think I am insane. After all we've been through, you're still set on changing me. You still want the Architect, don't you?" he scowled.

"You are still angry from last night. You don't know what you're saying," the Doctor assured him.

The Master's teeth were making a horrible noise as they grinded together. Oh yes, he was angry. He didn't even know why. This new Doctor was just wrong.

"What's all that about, then?" Rory asked.

"Shut up. I wasn't talking to you," the Master spat. He broke out from their group before anyone could stop him. The Doctor called out for him, but he was gone once again. Probably for a run around the block. The Doctor didn't think he would be off for good.

"So what _was_ that?" Amy repeated the question to the Doctor, who looked mildly embarrassed.

"Don't worry about him, he's insane," the Doctor told her.

"Then why do you try to keep him around?" she insisted.

Turning to face her, the Doctor had one of his sterner looks in place. "Him and I are the last of our kind. He needs help. That's all there is to it." He was still smiling, but his eyes were telling her not to ask about it again. Amy and Rory could guess that there was far more to it than the Doctor wanted to admit even to himself.

Down a parallel street, the Master sauntered down on his own. He had hoped that, in time, the Doctor would convince him that he was still the same. Something would surface eventually, if he just waited. However, now he could see how the Doctor had made himself at home with new companions and a new face. It was a new life entirely.

Kicking at the ground, he hated himself for missing his Doctor. It was about the same time that he ran into Vincent van Gogh, and a giant, invisible alien causing all sorts of trouble. This led them to a fetch quest for the Doctor all over the city, and together the Time Lords were capable of identifying the beast. It meant setting their differences aside for a moment and for the Master to work alongside Amy and Rory. Somehow it was accomplished, and the Doctor was worried over how the Master appeared to be connecting with Vincent.

With only Vincent capable of seeing the alien, the five split up and searched. Namely, the Doctor insisted that everyone else stayed behind while he went to the TARDIS to retrieve a particular instrument that would help him see it.

The Master had all sorts of objections to being stuck in Vincent's house with the three others. He was sitting in a chair by the window and pointedly glaring at the world outside. It went on for quite a while until Amy, with her hands crossed over her chest, pointedly sat down next to him.

"The Doctor is lying about you, I know it. What happened between you two?"

The Master tilted his head up with a frown. "He changed. And then he got _you_ to look after him, that's what happened."

"Changed how?" Amy asked. She was able to ignore the insults for now, but it wasn't going unnoticed. "He didn't use to be like you, I hope."

"Do you know what you are, Pond?" the Master asked without any intentions of answering her question. "You're not his companion. You're just a toy, and he always, always breaks his toys."

"So that's what this whole display is about. You're jealous," she said. Deadpan, annoyed, and just a little triumphant to see the Master get even further annoyed. "What are you to him, then? Did he break you already?"

He could pull his screwdriver out and burn her to nothing. It would be instant, entertaining, put an end to the constant nagging. It would also be overstepping the line and pissing the Doctor off something immensely. Realizing that he was actually staying within a line just made him angrier. He shouldn't have a line at all.

Without a word to Amy, he got up and marched over to Vincent, taking him by the upper arm.

"You and I are getting drunk now," he informed the painter.

*

It was, all in all, an interesting day. The Master and Vincent spent most of it at a tavern, drinking and complaining. The two had a great time, until the invisible alien crashed in followed by the Doctor who had a strange contraption strapped to his chest. Lacking better judgement, the Master and Vincent tailed on and pursued the Doctor to a church, where they ended the poor alien creature.

After taking their farewells with Vincent, the Doctor let Amy and Rory back into the TARDIS but took the Master aside.

"You had to go and get yourself drunk, didn't you?" the Doctor asked with a sigh. He straightened the Master's tie and smoothed his hair back. The Master swayed lightly. "Catching Aliens Under Influence is a bad idea and I never want to see it again, is that clear?"

"You're fussing over me," the Master said. It wasn't so much of a complaint this time as it was a statement.

"You are drunk," the Doctor reminded. He put an arm around the Master's waist and steered him down a quiet street. There was a path at the outskirt of the city where there would be no curious onlookers to disturb them.

"We were drunk the first time we had sex. The Doctor and I," the Master said. He held onto the Doctor's arm, half leaning on him.

"I remember. I was there," the Doctor assured him.

"You're Eleven. That's all you ever will be. Where are we going?" the Master asked.

The Doctor was frustrated, but tried not to show it. "Nowhere. I wanted to talk, and the TARDIS is rather full at the moment."

"It's bigger on the inside, if you remember."

"Maybe I wanted a 'nowhere' with a starry sky over it."

The Master sent him a pointed look. "Is this an attempt at reconnecting?" he asked.

"Possibly," the Doctor said, lips curling in dismay. "It's not going very well, is it?"

The Master took the Doctor by the front of his shirt and pulled him close.

"Look," he said through gritted teeth. "You did things to me. Made me care what you think. Then you went and became someone else. You prance around with your bowtie and screwdriver like you know what you're doing and I don't like it. It's not what it used to be."

"Maybe it's not what it used to be because you're being an impossible child?" the Doctor asked. His patience was running thin. "The least you could do is call me by my name rather than a number. And I told you about the bowtie; it's cool."

The Master took hold of the Doctor's suspenders and yanked him closer still. He hissed against the Doctor's ear. "The suspenders I can get behind, but this 'date' thing you're trying is rubbish. Completely, utterly non-Doctorly and domestic."

He let go. The suspenders smacked back in place and the Doctor yelped. By now, the Doctor was getting thoroughly angry with the Master, and he didn't even try to stop him from heading back to the TARDIS.

*

The Doctor was good at pretending that everything was fine. The Master did a good job ignoring the Doctor in general, and that made the following travels bearable. Amy and Rory functioned as a sort of shield between them; they never had to talk to each other or debate why they weren't just going their separate ways.

It all worked quite well, in hindsight, even if it forced the Master to get to know Amy and Rory. While Rory ended up the constant focus of the Master's teasing, he never went as far as to piss of Amy and in turn the Doctor.

"You're alright, Pond."

The Master made sure neither the Doctor or Rory were in the vicinity when he said this rather out-of-the-blue. They had been separated by a tunnel collapse while venturing through a silverite mine in a distant world.

"That's worth something, coming from you," Amy replied. She actually didn't know whether to be sarcastic or not.

"Hey, you know I think you filthy monkeys are scum, but for a human, you're not bad."

"Thanks. I guess." The Doctor had made her promise to be wary of the Master no matter what he told her, and especially if he told her something nice. "If I'm 'alright', tell me how you and the Doctor met, then."

"I like the Scottish accent but I am _not_ your best friend," the Master told her with a snort.

Amy inclined her head and gave him that no-nonsense look he had come to despise. It made him cringe.

"We used to be enemies. Then we weren't, but we were. Now we're enemies again."

"You're starting to sound like him," she said with a laugh. Upon seeing the Master's expression, she wished she hadn't. "Really, though. He's mad at you, even Rory can tell."

Defining the situation hadn't been the Master's first priority. He'd been more concerned with the huffiness and the anger part of the situation, because it was something he knew how to deal with and act according to. "He likes the person I _could_ be, and I liked who he _was_. Not without hating him, mind you. I always have and I always will, but it's a sort of..."

"Love stroke hate thing?" Amy suggested. The Time Lords thought they were good at hiding things, but they were only hiding from each other. To the people around, they were very transparent.

"If you as much as mention that word about us ever again, I am going to take my screwdriver and—"

"Everything alright with you two?"

The Doctor, dusty and as cheerful as ever, had dug through the debris with the help of Rory. Striding over the debris, he adjusted his bowtie. The Master thought he looked like the biggest dork in the entire universe, but Amy was thrilled at being rescued and ran right into Rory's arms.

The Master so disliked how she put words to things he'd been happy to stay in denial about. He honestly liked Rory better. At least he was a source of entertainment when the two of them got stuck in a death trap together on Darillium after a tour of the Singing Towers went horribly wrong. The Master might have had something to do with the aggression that the natives were now showing towards them.

"This is his fault," the Master scoffed. "If he'd only allowed me to infiltrate the world's government instead of raising awareness, we would be just fine." Arms folded over his chest, he was looking up the four meters of wall surrounding them. They were spiky and steadily coming closer. Rory was running around in hopes of finding a way to climb out of the pit.

"Are you even capable of shutting up?" Rory asked. The Master was leaving the panicking to him. "We're going to be stabbed and crushed to death. Knowing whose fault it is doesn't make it better."

"It's never too late to blame someone else," the Master assured. "And dying isn't so bad after you have tried it a few times. You need to see the advantages of it; Pond might finally find someone to satisfy her sexually."

Rory's red face and ears was enough of a delight to last a lifetime. With the trap closing in on them, the Master still found more than enough time to lean in close and whisper some very intimate relationship advice in Rory's ear, just to watch him squirm and get angry. He almost shoved the Master into the spikes by the time the Doctor and Amy showed up to rescue them.

"I know what you were trying to do, taking us to the Singing Towers," the Master told the Doctor while Rory stormed ahead towards the TARDIS and Amy ran after him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," the Doctor lied outright. "I am only showing the humans a good time. Don't you see how romantic it is, how they keep rescuing each other? Things like that build relationships. Make people trust each other. You're not bad at getting into trouble yourself."

The Doctor was making it all too obvious what he really wanted, and the Master narrowed his eyes at him.

"I don't need you to rescue me. I don't _want_ you to rescue me. I rather die than have people know you're running around rescuing me. This wasn't a heroic rescue and it definitely wasn't a date."

The Doctor let the harsh words slide in an instant if only to annoy the Master further.

"Still, we had a good time, didn't we?" he said with a grin.

"You keep getting in my way," the Master accused. He was determined to remain sulky, though he was starting to realize that this approach might actually not bring his Doctor back. Still, he wanted to keep blaming this incarnation for the death of the real Doctor. "You just had to save him, didn't you?" the Master spat. "You died to save that pathetic, unimportant monkey."

"A lot of people died," the Doctor replied. His manner went stiff and cold faster than the Master could avert his eyes. "I saved the one life I could. Ianto was no less important than any of us."

" _You_ were more important," the Master burst out.

The two stopped in their tracks and went quiet. Amy and Rory were already back inside the TARDIS and people were probably chasing after them still. They were always running. This was one conversation the Doctor didn't want to run away from.

"I wouldn't have cared if you regenerated," he said. "It wouldn't have made a difference."

"That's because you're fine with anything so long as it doesn't die or leave you," the Master growled. By now, he was starting to see that the Doctor was in the right and that only made him all the more upset. He missed the Doctor, damn it. He just couldn't acknowledge that the man in front of him, this boy, this dork in a bowtie, was it.

"I won't wait for you forever," the Doctor warned him. For a moment there, perhaps there was a flicker of the Doctor that the Master knew so well. Dangerous, threatening and taking all control away from the Master. The Master didn't know what to make of it, and he followed the Doctor back into the TARDIS without a word.

*

"You can't mean this." The Master looked at the Doctor with utter disapproval. "Not only are we stuck on this bloody planet, but we have to share a room?"

With the TARDIS trapped in a time loop preventing Amy and Rory from landing, the Doctor and the Master were simply forced to find a place to stay until it could all be sorted out. A note in Amy's handwriting had told them where they needed to go to find an apartment and the Doctor had let the Master sabotage a cash machine for their benefit. Stealing and wrecking helped calm him down.

What didn't sit well with the Master was sharing a single room in a tiny house together with humans. He despised it the second he crossed the doorstep.

"Oh, this isn't bad," the Doctor said. He was swinging back and forth on his heels, seeming all too delighted as he took in the curiously normal surroundings.

"Remind me why we are renting together when I literally can't stand your face," the Master sighed.

"Shush. They will think we are more normal if we act like a couple. Convinces them into thinking that you're not too crazy to have company," the Doctor explained. "Isn't that why you got a wife when you ran for Prime Minister?"

"Free sex," the Master said with a shrug.

"Too bad you got the gender wrong then, hm?" the Doctor said with a bright smile.

"Shut up," the Master hissed. "I am stuck in Cardiff, of all places, with you. If you want to act like we are a couple, then we're currently going through a rough patch. You're sleeping on the floor."

"At least my new back will handle it better."

Disgustingly happy, the Master thought. And the bloke who was renting out the room didn't exactly help matters. Craig was useless, fumbling and completely blinded by the woman he loved. Typical, hopeless human. The Master was forced to get to know him better the next morning. He'd promised the Doctor not to maim anyone, and so he kept his attention on breakfast and forced out some simple replies that might qualify as small talk.

"You've been together long, then? Not to be nosy or anything. I don't mind, of course," Craig said between shovelling down breakfast. He was going over to Sophie's. "First time I've had a couple like you staying, though. Don't want to say anything wrong."

The Master was getting more displeased by the second and his lips twitched as he tried to keep himself from sneering.

"Oh, the Doctor and I go way back. _Very recently_ got involved, though." This was bullshit. Craig's awkward conversation made his skin crawl, and he swore it wasn't because it made him think about this... This _thing_ with the Doctor. "I used to have a wife, you know."

"Really? You're one of those, are you? Found out you had other interests?" he asked. Craig was obviously just trying to be polite and be out the door as soon as possible. The Master scoffed, eyes set on the frying pan.

"Early onset of mid-life crisis, if you will. Everything was just peachy until _he_ showed up."

"Sounds like a nasty affair, that," Craig said. He was getting his coat on and was on his way out the door.

"It was," the Master said through gritted teeth. "I died once. That's what happens with him around."

Craig was just about to ask what he meant by that when the Doctor peeked his head into the kitchen, sniffing the air.

"Your recent evil plot smells rather good," he informed.

"I'll be on my way then," Craig excused himself. The two men were the weirdest he had ever seen, but it might be offensive to comment.

"I'm cooking," the Master said without looking away from what he was doing. The Doctor made the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end.

A bit more cautious this time, the Doctor sniffed the air again. His brows furrowed.

"You cook? _You_ cook?" he asked, leaning over the Master's shoulder to have a look. "And it's not poisoned or anything; you're making actual, edible food?"

"Yes, and if you breathe a word of it to the two tarts stuck in the TARDIS, I'm serving up your testicles next," the Master warned him. He scooped bacon and eggs onto a plate and pushed it into the Doctor's hands. "Sit," he ordered.

The Doctor took a seat and poked at his food with the fork as if he was expecting it to bite him.

"If I didn't see Craig leave just now, I would have been worried about just what you made this with. Don't think I have forgotten about the people you killed after the last time you were resurrected."

The Master sat down across the table from him with a deadpan expression. "Eat your breakfast."

After somewhat of a staring contest, the Doctor gave in and had a try. He was pleasantly surprised, and soon he was scoffing down. It was perhaps not fish fingers and custard, but the Master had hidden talents. Maybe there was a shrivel of creative spark left in him that wasn't used up for evil.

"Thank you. I hope you make it a habit of cooking me breakfast," the Doctor said with a smirk.

"Feeding into your fantasies, that's all," the Master replied sweetly. He wasn't looking at the Doctor. He made a point of keeping all concentration fixed on his tea. There was a British flag printed on the cup. Quaint. Disgustingly quaint. The same could be said for having breakfast with the Doctor and sharing a room with him.

He spent a while lost in his own thoughts. After so long, his head still felt disturbingly empty without the constant rhythm there to remind him of who he was. The Doctor had changed him, then left him. He couldn't possibly have been any crueller.

"You could like me. If you tried."

The silence was broken and the Master looked up to see that the Doctor had been watching him all this time.

"What, and let you win?" he asked.

"There's no winning." The Doctor raised a brow at him. "What are you going to do? Wait until I turn back, is that what you're doing? It's impossible. It can't happen and this is who I am now. I'll regenerate again someday. One day I'll have to deal with you regenerating."

"You're not the Doctor."

"And yet..." The Doctor leaned across the table, that infuriating smile of his so sly and persistent. "I am. We travelled in the TARDIS together for ages. We fought against and alongside each other for centuries. No matter how many times you backstab me, I keep coming back. I still do. How am I not the Doctor in that respective?"

"You're an idiot. There's a difference."

The Doctor took hold of his chin, preventing him from looking away. He couldn't escape the truth and he hated every second of it. The Doctor's voice was soft, and there really was something sensual about Eleven that set the Master's teeth on edge.

"I still know exactly what you like in bed. Keep that in mind," he murmured.

The Master was about to ask how a twig such as this man was going to keep up with him. He stopped himself when he realized that he really wanted to find out. It was perhaps not a bad thing to at least exploit the Doctor's desires for a chance to break him down into the sheets and take back control.

He was about to pursue the matter further when the Doctor grabbed the dishes and got up.

"I was invited to play football today with some of Craig's mates," he said.

Feeling snubbed, the Master decided to be difficult again. "And why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"Because maybe you would want to come along, like a normal person might have wanted," the Doctor replied. The Master swore he could detect a faint tease in his voice, but he had to laugh, loud and sharp, and then he grinned at the Doctor.

"No."

He might actually have had fun playing him, but no way was he going to make himself be fun to have around.

"I will be wearing football shorts."

"When are we leaving?"

The Doctor raised his brows. "Seriously?"

The Master thought it over once more. "No," he said. "And you're doing the dishes."

"We might as well be married already," the Doctor called after him as he made his way out of the kitchen.

The Master had the faint feeling that the Doctor was playing games with him, and he didn't like it in the least. It was time to reap what benefit he could get from the Doctor's horribly misdirected affections towards him.

*

The Doctor looked all too triumphant when he came back from the football match. Apparently he had turned out to be rather good at the game and everyone but Craig liked him for it. Craig was jealous, and the Master had to suppress a smirk. It was cute how the Doctor didn't notice that he was ruining the man's life.

The Doctor was going for a shower when the Master got between him and the door, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him into the bathroom. The door was locked behind them.

"I decided to take you up on that offer before," the Master said.

"Offer?"

The Doctor's mind had been elsewhere completely.

"Socks off," the Master ordered while he threw his shirt, trousers and pants off. Once the Doctor was barefoot, the Master pushed him into the shower. He wasn't giving him time to undress. On the contrary, his hands were on the Doctor's thighs, fingers slipping up the shorts. The Doctor in shorts was something he could literally get behind.

" _Oh_. So that's what..." The Doctor furrowed his brows. "You want to do it here? In here? In the shower?"

"What, regenerating made you squeamish?"

"No, but I was hoping you would at least let me get undressed," he said, but didn't get to finish the sentence before the Master had turned on the water. Shirt and shorts were soaked through, half transparent and sticking to the Doctor's skin.

"One good thing about regeneration; I get a completely new body to explore," the Master said. His lips were pressed to the Doctor's neck and the words were muffled, but he got the point across. His hands were kneading the Doctor's ass through wet fabric and he pressed himself flush up against him.

The Doctor struggled to get the wet shirt off and ended up getting it caught around his head. He let out a squeak as the Master bit down on one of his nipples and yanked at his shorts. He was trapped and soaking wet, and the Master didn't hesitate to abuse his body.

Forced against the shower wall, the Doctor was near choking in wet fabric as the Master pulled his legs up. He was trapped between the wall and the Master, locking his legs around the Master's waist and clinging on. He made a frustrated noise as the Master shoved two fingers into him.

"Lost control, did you? Not a happy man at all when you don't get your way," the Master hissed. He didn't care much to be careful with the Doctor, even less than the first time they had sex. This wasn't the body he'd shared so many good times with before.

The Doctor was able to free himself of the shirt and gasped for air. Hair flat against his face and already short of breath, he could only grab onto the Master's shoulders when the fingers left.

"I bet you haven't even tried this body out, yet."

The Master was all too pleased, because despite the Doctor's noises of protest, he wasn't being pushed away. The Doctor missed this just as much as he did, if not more. He pressed the Doctor's knees up and let him sink down onto his erection, slowly impaling him.

There was a pained noise from the Doctor and his nails scraped against the Master's back.

" _Ow_." The grimace on his face made it clear that he wasn't handling it well, nor was he pleased with the less than graceful treatment. Wet shorts and pants caught around his thighs while getting taken up against the wall was not entirely ideal.

The Doctor had to wonder why he had missed this at all. Unless he was the one taking charge and forcing the Master to be compliable, he would always be treated rough to a point where it almost wasn't enjoyable. Still he kept coming back for more and he let the Master turn him around and take him as he wished.

It was a good thing Craig was still out with Sophie, because when the water ran cold, they made their way back to their room, leaving a trail of water on the floor, all the way to where they had fallen over together in bed.

The sheets stuck to their damp skin while they furiously made out, and the Master had taken hold of the Doctor's hips and was trying to get him underneath again. He wanted the Doctor on his hands and knees while he took him hard from behind, but the Doctor had by now had enough of his heartless fucking.

The Doctor wouldn't let him, and instead held the Master down with him on the bed as he sheathed himself onto him again. In each other's arms, finally with no clothes between them, it was more like he preferred it. When the Master protested, the Doctor rolled over and got on top. His movements were slow and firm to the point of caring, and that didn't sit well with the Master.

He hated it when the Doctor was tender with him. Tender sex felt like it actually mattered. The Doctor's kisses and touches, the way he moved against the Master's body and let their limbs grind against each other, it bordered on passionate.

The Master did his best to hide how much he really enjoyed it. He found that this new body wasn't bad at all. Smooth and slim, and so desperate to please him. They came together in such a nice way, and he didn't care if he breathlessly slumped against the Doctor's chest after they rolled over and succumbed to each other's embrace. He was pleased to know the Doctor would be sore in the morning.

"I missed your cuddling," the Doctor murmured once he had caught his breath. He was sticky and still damp, but somehow it didn't make him any less cheeky.

"I don't cuddle," the Master protested. "If you say that again, I am going to fuck you with your screwdriver."

The Doctor just laughed and pulled the Master a little closer. Nose scrunched up, the Master pressed his cheek to the Doctor's chest.

"Your previous screwdriver made a better toy, anyway," he muttered, then he closed his eyes.

"But think of how interesting the new one must feel," the Doctor said with eyebrows cocked suggestively.

"Oh, go to sleep."

When the Doctor went quiet, he could hear it. The heartbeats, rushing against his ear. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. It almost scared him, hearing the rhythm again like this. Except it wasn't tangible in the same way as it had been inside his head. It was natural and good; soothing where the drums in his mind had been maddening.

All things considered, it could only be him and the Doctor. Not only were they the last two of their kind, but there was so much history between them. The Master was almost a little disgusted to realize that if one person put up with him, it was the one currently next to him in bed. No one had ever forgiven him as much.

There was no chance the Master would ever think of anyone like he thought of the Doctor. It made him feel so helpless, and that just annoyed him. He wanted to deny all of it.

The days ticked by and life was exceedingly domestic and boring. It was also ridiculous how the Doctor was utterly oblivious to what was going on with the people around him and the Master was considered to be the insane one. The Doctor clearly had some issues of his own. Craig and Sophie were locked in a platonic relationship that just needed a shove in the right direction. The Doctor didn't see it while the Master took enjoyment in watching them waste their lives.

All in all, the Doctor was the one rousing suspicion about their real identity, in the Master's opinion. He'd always been better at fitting in and manipulating those around him, while the Doctor was a disaster waiting to happen in a normal, everyday life situation.

Of course, the Doctor had to discover that there was an alien living on the floor above them, and after a lot of hassle they were able to expel the thing, saving Sophie's life in the process and getting her together with Craig. The Master was glad that this allowed the TARDIS to land and for them to finally leave. At least when he was Prime Minister, he'd had a somewhat entertaining life on Earth.

Now the Doctor was letting the Master have all the sex he wanted, and that was the only good thing that had come of this detour. A nagging voice in the back of his head told him that the Doctor would allow himself to be used if only to please him. The Master didn't mind. He chose to ignore anything that made the eleventh incarnation seem more like his Doctor.

*

The crack was following them. No matter where or when they went, if they only looked close enough, they could notice it. The Doctor and the Master hadn't mentioned it to Amy and Rory. The Master said he was just waiting for one of them to get taken by it, but the Doctor could tell that even he was a little nervous.

No matter what way they looked at it, a crack in Time was not beneficial for anyone.

"Not even a creature of pure consciousness would be able to escape if that thing swallows the world," the Doctor thought out loud. He grabbed for the cup of tea that the Master had made him, but it was held out of reach.

"When are you ever letting that go?" the Master asked with a frown. He set the cup down on the table after another moment of terrorizing the Doctor, then he took himself a seat.

"I can't help but wonder if you'd still choose that."

The Master hated the way the Doctor looked at him, saw right through him.

"To get away from your nagging? Yes. Incorporeal sex must have its advantages," the Master pondered. He wasn't giving the Doctor a serious answer if he could help it. He blew on his tea while the Doctor regarded him.

"Now see, I let Amy and Rory be off on their own this time so you and I could have a little talk," the Doctor said after a moment.

"That's not like you at all. Usually you are the first one out the door of the TARDIS and the last one to want to talk about anything. Unless by 'talk' you mean 'sex'."

"No, to be honest, it's Amy. I have been suspecting it for some time and I was wondering if you had noticed, too."

The Master said nothing. He had noticed there was something off, yes. The Doctor had likely noticed better than him. He took a sip of his tea before he spoke.

"Are you confiding your worries in me, Eleven?"

" _Doctor_. Are we still not past that?"

"I just love to see you get worked up," the Master said with a smirk. He was set on being impossible. "As for Amy, if you're thinking about—"

There was a sudden shift in the gravity. Everything in the room began to slowly float towards the ceiling.

"Not again," the Master groaned in dismay as he was lifted up from his seat.

"Don't tell me she's been making a habit of this?" the Doctor asked. He was quick to give his teacup a shove in the opposing direction so it wouldn't get all over them. This change of gravity did horrible things to his hair.

"I've been sleeping in the ceiling ever since I got back."

They tried to take hold of something and stay down, but nothing was within reach. Table and chairs were aloft, bumping into them before going on their own merry trajectories.

"And you didn't have a mind to say something?"

"I don't need you to sweet-talk her on my behalf," the Master spat. "Besides, it's comfortable once you get used to it."

"We need to get back to the control room. _Ouf_."

They bumped into each other as they hit the ceiling. The gravity was low, but kept them from getting back down to the floor. They exchanged looks where they hovered right under the ceiling.

"This is starting to get on my nerves," the Master remarked.

"Maybe if you were nicer to her, she wouldn't do this."

"I'm nice to her!" the Master insisted.

"You cannibalized her and turned her into a paradox machine," the Doctor reminded him with a harsh look. "And you smashed a chair into her dashboard for no reason."

"I did a number of other things on that dashboard too, and you were involved."

"See? You need to leave my sexy thing alone. You may have tried to take over Earth, and succeeded on several occasions, but if there's one thing I can't forgive it's that you cannibalized her."

The Master's eyes narrowed. The Doctor was about to push himself away from the ceiling and make an attempt for the door, but the Master wrapped an arm around his waist and held him back.

"I'll show you who your sexy thing is."

The Doctor couldn't help a smirk and turned back to look at the Master. "Oh, you are sweet when you are jealous."

It was interesting, doing it in the ceiling. Their clothes floated in midair and drifted away as they got themselves into one heated tangle of limbs. Of course the TARDIS turned the gravity back to normal while they were in the middle of it, sending them right back into the floor. It wasn't comfortable by far, and the place looked a mess when Amy and Rory returned. They'd barely had time to pull their clothes back on.

"I think they're getting suspicious of what we're up to," the Doctor muttered to the Master, who just rolled his eyes. The Doctor could be so blind.

Nevertheless, it was time to get on the move again. It had almost been nice to be stuck in a suburb together if only because there was little to do but lie around and have sex all day. That was the Master's ideal holiday, but Amy had insisted they go to America.

She had all of time and space to choose from, and she wanted to see the 21st century's California. She might as well have contacted a travel agency and left the real time travellers alone with the TARDIS. Needless to say, the Master was not in a charming mood when they appeared in the middle of Los Angeles. Even less so when he found out that they were going sightseeing and shopping.

"Oh, come on, it's wonderfully quaint, isn't it?" the Doctor said. He was walking with one arm around the Master's shoulders. "I thought you missed it. What do you think, Amy? Ever remember him being as sulky as when we left the suburbs? These aren't suburbs, but you know, normal human life and all that. It grows on you."

Amy tried not to laugh at the Master's expression.

"He really was sulky," Rory agreed.

"He's always sulky. Never mind him, come on you lot, chop chop. If we're lucky, there won't be anything trying to destroy the world today, and we can have some nice and quiet."

"When did you start liking nice and quiet?" the Master asked.

He learned too late that by nice and quiet, the Doctor meant running around all over the city and letting Amy shop and do whatever she liked while their feet grew steadily sorer. The woman had a gear reserved for shopping, and the Master didn't think even a Time Lord had the lifespan and patience required to keep up with it.

"Another thing I loved about being Prime Minister," the Master sighed as they, hours later, passed out inside a café. "I could pay people to take my wife shopping."

They ordered coffee. The Master couldn't believe that the Doctor and Amy weren't fatigued in the least, but he supposed women simply had a way with the big cities. He preferred London. There were less humans and more other things in London; other things that wanted to destroy and conquer pretty much once a Christmas. Those were things after his own hearts.

The Doctor wasn't allowed any coffee, as he had more than enough energy simply from being down on Earth and taking in all the little details of the place. Now he had spotted a television on the far wall. The news was on and something had caught his attention. He was up from his seat and prodding at the television with his screwdriver to get the volume up.

" _...insists that the deaths were caused by some alien life form. The government has employed the Lightman Group, the world's leading experts on lie detection, to determine whether there is any truth in his statement. America may be facing its first alien encounter."_

"They're jealous that the Brits are getting all the action," the Master commented. Though he would, in all honesty, be a little annoyed if someone other than him took over this world. He'd put quite a lot of hours into this place.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" Amy asked as the Doctor returned to their table.

"Definitely. Holiday is over, everyone," the Doctor said and he clapped his hands together with a bright smile. "This Lightman Group sounds fascinating and we should drop in for a visit. Shouldn't be hard to find the place."

"At least let me finish my goddamn coffee," the Master hissed. The Doctor had already run off, though, and Amy and Rory were at his heels. The Master didn't make a move to follow and instead made a point of drinking up before moving a muscle.

*

The Doctor was far too excitable to worry about leaving the Master on his own for a while. He didn't take long to find the Lightman Group's headquarters, a big building where he strolled in casually ahead of Amy and Rory. The TARDIS was parked outside, just so the Master would be forced to come looking for them.

The way that the Lightman Group's logo was on every wall gave him some creepy associations to Torchwood. He hoped they didn't have a Lightman van with blinking lights and no subtlety whatsoever.

In his office was Cal Lightman, head of the Lightman Group and not one who was easily surprised. Of course, there had been countless alien sightings in London the past few years, but nothing substantial. The case file on his hands was making him raise his brows. There had been a car crash, and a lot of people were reported dead. Everyone in the vicinity of the car, actually, and not because of the collision. It had yet to be determined what had made them all drop dead, but one eyewitness who had seen the driver, whose head had been smashed open, had reported tentacles. Tentacles coming out of a person's head. Minutes later the body had gone missing.

All this was puzzling, and his colleague Gillian was talking to the witness now while Cal was leafing through reports of the various sightings in London. He'd already determined that the witness wasn't lying, but Gillian was less open-minded about the entire alien idea. He was keeping one eye on a live feed of the interrogation when something else caught his eye. Someone out in the hallway, someone who was so out of place in every way, it almost made him topple his chair when he hurried to put his feet down from his desk.

He leaned out of the doorway to his office and stared.

"Oi!"

The Doctor was looking at the photographs of various facial expressions plastered all over the wall. He was deeply concentrated about mimicking them when Cal called out, and he turned to face him with a smile. Amy and Rory were right behind him, but it was the Doctor that Cal had his eyes on.

"You. Who invited you in here?" he asked.

"Oh, an English accent. Lovely. Love those," the Doctor said. "One reason why I always go to England. Trying to keep my own in tip top shape," he informed Amy and Rory. The two were amazed by the fact that Cal was even capable of walking, what with his posture being most reminiscent of a question mark. He was a short man who could be intimidating or charming to his own desire. The Doctor offered his hand. "And who might you be?"

Cal regarded him, utterly put off by the Doctor's mannerism, but he took his hand and shook it.

"Dr. Cal Lightman. I run this place. And you are?"

"The Doctor," the Doctor presented himself. "Just the Doctor."

"Right you are. Why don't you tell me your real name?" Cal asked.

"I told you, I'm the Doctor," the Doctor said. "Sometimes I go by John Smith, but really, to friends it's the Doctor." He shook Cal's hand vigorously before he let go and returned to look around like an excitable child.

"Amy Pond," Amy introduced herself. "And this is Rory Williams."

"Yes, hi. Now why is he dragging you in here? You don't seem like you have any clue what he's doing, so what are you up to?" Cal asked. His eyes were set on the Doctor, who was peeking into one of the security cameras and prodding it with his screwdriver.

"Just very interested in the Lightman Group and what you have going on here," the Doctor said. "We're tourists, so to speak. Just silly tourists wandering about where we shouldn't be."

"It's about the alien, isn't it?" Cal asked. "Though that last part's definitely true."

The Doctor turned to him with a smile. "Speaking as one doctor to another, it's all very exciting, isn't it?"

"What sort of a doctor are you, then?" Cal asked. There was work to be done, but this man had caught him completely off guard. Everything about him screamed of interesting.

"A doctor of everything," the Doctor said before he wandered off down the hall.

The Doctor was either a very good liar, or he really was a doctor of everything. Either way, Cal was impressed. He turned to Amy and Rory.

"Just who is he?" Cal asked.

"He's the Doctor," Amy said with a shrug.

"Yes, but where's he from?" Cal pressed.

"No idea," Rory answered, helpful as ever.

Cal was getting frustrated. "What about you two, then? That's a Scottish accent you have there. Amy, was it?"

"Yeah, but I was brought up in England. That's where we're from."

Cal gave them both a long, hard stare. "But that's not where you arrived from, is it?"

Amy and Rory exchanged looks.

"I was right about that then. So this alien. Any reason why that Doctor should be interested in it?" Cal asked. He shepherded Amy and Rory into his office while he talked.

"Who said it was an alien?" Amy asked. "No one said it was an alien. That bloke on the telly was probably just bonkers."

Cal resumed his seat and put his feet up on the desk.

"Now, see, we at the Lightman Group are deception experts. Lying to us doesn't really work," he told them and gestured for them to take a seat. "You're deflecting, and you have no confidence in what you're saying. Your nervous fidgeting is a dead giveaway, and the way you just raised your eyebrows tells me you know the truth. I'll ask again; why are you lot so interested in the alien?"

While Amy and Rory gave each other looks and decided on what to say next, Cal brought up the live feed of the interrogation room. He had a feeling he'd be seeing the Doctor interrupt Gillian at any time.

"Well," Amy began.

"We're looking for aliens. That's why we're here in America, we're just huge... alien fans," Rory said.

"Still not true," Cal said without even looking at them. "You two might be tourists, but he's something else." Now he looked at them, brows furrowed. "I can tell he's not normal, and that you two don't know what to make of him, either. Does he have anything to do with the alien sighting?"

"He's not really connected in any way," Amy said, truthfully enough. "But it's his sort of thing, alright?" She was getting annoyed with the way Cal looked at them, as if he could see what they were thinking. "He's a good man and he'll probably be a lot of help to you if you let him."

Cal kept looking at her, and after a moment he nodded. "Fair enough. Why would he want to help us out?"

"It's what he does," Rory said. "He's always running around, helping people. We're sort of just tagging along."

"We're his friends," Amy added.

"You don't sound too confident about that, love. I think I should have another talk with him."

*

By now, the Doctor had already introduced himself to Eli Loker and Ria Torres, who were sitting outside the interrogation room while Gillian talked to their eyewitness. Neither knew what to make of the Doctor and they were trying to get him out of the room when Cal arrived with Pond plus one at his heels.

"Dr. Lightman, this guy just showed up and said you let him in," Torres was quick to say.

"And what did you make of that?" Cal asked. He was looking the Doctor up and down, still baffled by him.

"I don't think you gave him any sort of permissions to interrupt our work," she replied.

"Right, but let him have a look around anyway. I'm of the impression he can be of some help."

The Doctor was thrilled. "Me, help out? All this science is so fascinating. I'd love to. I want to see more of it. Deception experts; that's so cool."

"Doctor, if I could have a talk with you?" Cal asked. With a hand on the Doctor's shoulder, he steered him out. "Torres, Loker, give these two the tour if you're not too busy."

"We're working a case. I'd say that's busy," Loker said.

"Well, it's not the important kind of busy. I saw the news broadcast, the guy isn't lying, Gillian just needs some convincing, so do as I say."

Loker looked to Torres with a frown. "Lightman believes in aliens now?" he muttered.

Cal walked the Doctor out of the room and down the hall. This man was too much of a mystery for him to let go of.

"I've been told you're a bit of an alien expert," he said, eyes set on the Doctor.

"Right you are. No sense in trying to fool you, is there?" the Doctor asked with a laugh.

"Studied anywhere? Or is it maybe personal experience?"

They looked at each other, and the Doctor had to smile as he saw how Cal looked back at him.

"Oh, you have a beautiful brain, don't you? Yes you do. Not a lot of humans would be that quick to figure it out. _Good_ for you, doctor. I bet not even the slightly psychic paper could fool you."

Cal paused. That was a lot to take in at once. It was dawning on him pretty quickly that the Doctor did perhaps have more in common with the alien than just general interest.

"You look human, but you talk as if we're a completely different species."

"Which means?"

"Most likely you're _completely_ mad."

"Oh, I am. I assure you," the Doctor said. "A mad man with a box, people use to call me. I prefer that to the Oncoming Storm. Fancy as that is, I find a mad man with a box is far more approachable, don't you agree? Mind you, I'm bound to draw attention at dinner parties no matter how I introduce myself, and it's not usually because I make an excellent banana daiquiri, sadly enough."

"Completely bonkers," Cal sighed. "But very convincing."

"I'll let you in on a secret," the Doctor said, leaning down to be level with Cal. "I don't look human. You look Time Lord."

*

"And you believe all this?"

Gillian was humoured as she walked with Cal and he explained what the Doctor had told him.

"I'm telling you, he's eccentric, but he's not lying."

"He claims to be an alien. Cal..."

She stopped in her tracks, making Cal stop as well.

"This is like the incident with that 'psychic' of yours. She believed in what she saw, so she wasn't lying—"

"And she turned out to have a bipolar disorder, but this is nothing like that," Cal insisted. "You didn't actually see the Doctor. He doesn't act like people, and his companions have seen things. They believe him."

Gillian shook her head.

"And what about the eyewitness, then?" Cal asked. His voice was rising. "Gillian, one thing is being scientific, another is ignoring the truth. Do you even remember what we do in this place?"

"They think it's a gas that killed those people. It could have made the eyewitness hallucinate."

She wasn't meeting Cal's eyes, and it was driving him up the wall.

"Go talk to him. He's in my office looking at the case files. He might know what we're really up against and lives are going to depend on it."

Gillian didn't want to believe him, but she did as Cal told her. Accepting that they had an alien in the building went against her every instinct. Cal seemed so convinced, but acknowledging this to be real meant that all those alien sightings in London might have something to them as well. She wasn't quite at that point yet.

Cal went the other way. With his ex-wife out of town for the weekend, their daughter Emily was staying with him and she'd promised to come around after school. He'd expected to find her in the lobby, but not with company. Definitely not with an older, good looking man in a suit.

He looked vaguely familiar, but that notion was pushed back in favour of fatherly rage.

"Who are you and what the hell are you doing talking to my daughter?" Cal asked, coming up behind Emily to glare at the stranger.

"Dad, we were just talking," Emily said. As always she was immensely embarrassed by her father. "He said he's got information about the case you're working on."

"Did he, now?" Cal asked without taking his eyes off the Master, who smirked at him.

"I'm with the Doctor. I think you already met him?"

"Who's the Doctor?"

"Not now, Em. How do you fit into this whole picture, then?" Cal demanded of the Master. "You don't look like one of the kids who follow him around."

It was a good question. Being likened to Pond didn't sit well with the Master. Cal took a step closer, staring at him with that inscrutable look of his.

"Touchy about that one, are we?" Cal asked. "You think you're more important than them, is that it?"

"Dad, that's rude," Emily protested.

"She has a point," the Master said through gritted teeth. "You wouldn't want to insult the wrong person." Nothing pissed him off more than humans who thought they were worth something, particularly when the Doctor was close by and wouldn't approve of murder.

"You actually mean that as a threat. That was quick," Cal remarked. "You're really sore about the Doctor, aren't you? And completely transparent about it."

The Master's eyes narrowed. He was known as the master of disguises. A controller, a manipulator. Now this monkey thought he had even the faintest idea of what was going on inside his head. It was the Doctor's fault for making him soft.

"Oh, that's not a good look," Cal muttered. The more he looked at the Master, the less he liked him. Cal was nothing if not an expert on antagonizing the wrong people, and he could read malicious intents all over the Master.

It was a good thing the Doctor arrived when he did to yank Cal out of the way of the Master's laser screwdriver. It burnt a hole in the far wall.

"Bad Master. _Bad_. I told you to stop that," the Doctor scolded.

"The filthy ape insulted me!"

"I'll be confiscating that, thank you," the Doctor said, taking the Master's screwdriver away.

Emily and Cal were both shocked. Neither had seen anything like the screwdriver before, and the hole in the wall spoke for itself.

"Do they have anything to do with your case?" Emily asked. She was quick to draw conclusions, and Cal took her firmly by the arm.

"Go home, Em. I don't want you involved in this. I'd better not see you talking to him again," Cal said, glaring at the Master. "He's dangerous. And wrong." He'd seen more than he would have liked to.

"Takes one to know one," the Master told him. The Doctor elbowed him not so subtly.

"The Master won't be a problem, trust me. I will keep an eye on him. Think of me as his personal Doctor."

Cal wasn't amused, and he was giving Emily a shove towards the door.

"The Master, is he? Another one of your kind?"

"What do you mean 'your kind'?" Emily asked. She was impossible to keep away from these things. "Dad, you're not going to work with them, are you? He tried to kill you." She was frantic, but at the same time she was so very curious.

"We're aliens," the Master said. The more he could anger Cal, the better. "The Doctor and I come from a different planet."

"So it's true what that man said on the news?" Emily asked, looking to her father with big eyes and then quickly back to the Master and the Doctor. "The case you're working is about aliens? _They're_ aliens?"

"Em, I told you to go home. I don't want to hear another word from you," Cal said.

He had to drag her out of the room. Despite the Master's little indiscretion with the screwdriver, she was mesmerized at the idea of extraterrestrial life forms. It didn't quench her curiosity that her father had just forbidden her from talking to the Master, but rather the opposite.

The Doctor and the Master were left alone in the lobby, and the Doctor sent the Master a meaningful stare.

"What?" the Master asked. "I've been good ever since we arrived."

"You're a disaster and you always will be." The Doctor sounded tired.

"What, you thought I would change when I stopped hearing the drums?" the Master asked. His lips curled. He wasn't sure if he should laugh at the Doctor or be mad at him. "Eleven, you really are a moron."

"I am the _Doctor_. And I'm not letting you kill anyone if I can help it."

"Except you can't. I'll never be who you want me to be, and the best part is how fun it is to watch you try and change me."

The Master grabbed onto the front of the Doctor's coat and pulled him close with a smirk.

"I'll keep killing people and you'll keep on forgiving me."

"I still want to fix you," the Doctor insisted.

"Now you sound more like my Doctor," the Master mused. He brushed his finger over the Doctor's bowtie, then over his cheek before he tangled his fingers in the Doctor's hair. "But we are way, way beyond that point, love."

The Doctor wasn't the least bit amused. He looked at the Master with hard eyes, resenting how he could only say nice things about him when he was being sarcastic. Still he was so drawn to the touch.

"It's funny how you're killing me more now than when you were actually trying," the Doctor remarked.

The Master let out a soft snort. He caressed the Doctor, almost with scorn.

"I forgot to tell you; your haircut makes you look like a girl."

"For a moment I was worried I _was_ a girl."

The Master grimaced. "Alright, so this regeneration could have been worse."

The Doctor couldn't help a smile. He plucked the Master's hand out of his hair and straightened his bowtie. "Now. We have an alien to catch."

"Right. Where are Pond and her barnacle?"

"Taking the tour I think. We should investigate while they're busy. And don't call him a barnacle. That's rude."

"As always."

*

"Gay aliens in a destructive relationship. At least you can't complain about mundane commissions."

Cal and Gillian were looking at the footage from the lobby. The Doctor and the Master's conversation had been captured in its entirety, and there was enough material for a psychologist to drool over. Gillian was getting partial to the alien theory, though something still bothered her.

"You were awfully quick to believe them."

Cal didn't answer at first. He had to really think about it. This puzzled him more than an alien encounter.

"There's just something familiar about the Doctor. About all of this." He scratched his head and kept looking at the video. "We need to be careful, one way or another. We've got a murderer on our hands. The one man who appears capable of stopping him fancies him. Neither can be considered sane even by our standards."

"We shouldn't let them stay around at all," Gillian said. "He tried to kill you, Cal."

"Who doesn't, though?" Cal asked. "And for all we know, the alien we're looking for is even more dangerous."

"Then we should get this case over with as soon as possible," Gillian decided. "And don't antagonize them any further."

"You know I never take any unnecessary risks," Cal assured her.

"That's a lie anyone could see through."

While Cal and Gillian examined the psychological mess that were the last two Time Lords, the rest of the Lightman Group was collecting information. The Doctor and his flock had tagged along. Amy and Rory were with Torres out in the field, the Doctor and the Master were looking at footage from surveillance cameras with Loker.

"Lightman convinced the authorities to release the footage to us. He seemed to think you two can identify... whatever that is."

Loker pointed to a blurry bit of video. The driver could barely be seen in the wreckage of his car. His head had been smashed open against the dashboard.

"That's what he gets for not wearing a seat belt," the Master remarked. He earned some points with Loker, but the Doctor was more interested in the tentacles seeming to be rooted in the driver's brain.

"That's not right, not right at all," the Doctor said with a frown. "Explains the crash. That's a parasitic alien. It would have manifested like an early onset of Alzheimer's. Scans might have picked it up as a tumour. They emit a toxic nerve gas when they feel threatened. Killed everyone around it instantly."

"You're kidding."

"You tell me, deception expert."

Loker sighed. The tape went on with little more interesting details than the tentacles slowly flailing a little, and then the rest was scrambled.

"Whomever took the body knew about the security cameras. We've already interviewed some witnesses and have a number plate. We're working on tracking it down. Shouldn't be hard; they don't seem like professionals."

"Someone knew about the alien," the Doctor muttered. "That's not good."

"Very interesting. Except it isn't. Tell me when we are actually going to do something," the Master said. He was on his way out, and the Doctor had no desire to stop him. The Master didn't exactly lower the risk of casualties.

While everyone else was working on the case, the Master went to look for more interesting endeavours. He wasn't too surprised to run into Emily again outside the building. While she seemed hesitant at first, curiosity won and she walked up to him.

"Any luck with the alien?" she asked. She was looking at the Master with big eyes. For him, it was an interesting turn of events; most people were drawn to the Doctor. It had to do something with Cal banning her from talking to him, he was certain.

"Didn't your daddy tell you to stay out of it?" the Master asked with a sly look in her direction.

"Just making conversation," she said with a shrug. "It's not every day you meet aliens."

"You believe in it, then?"

"My dad believes you." Emily looked uncertain but hopeful. "I haven't decided what to think. You look like us."

"Why do all humans say that we look like them?" the Master scoffed. "Maybe _you_ look like us. Did that ever occur to you?"

"Sorry, I guess." Emily rolled her eyes, then looked away. She was embarrassed, but not on her own account. "And don't mind my dad. He's always rude to everyone. You didn't really mean to kill him, I'm sure."

"Of course not," the Master said smoothly. A lie too big if ever there was one. "I just wanted to scare him."

Emily looked relieved. The Master took pleasure in how angry Cal would be if he saw them now.

"If you're an alien, then where are you from?" Emily asked. She could barely hold herself still with all the questions she wanted to ask. The Master couldn't help the urge to indulge her. Anything to screw with Cal, really.

They were walking aimlessly as he talked about Gallifrey. He was quite subtle about his own role in this whole thing and Emily was listening intently with a marvelling look in her eyes. The Master laid out about the silver forests and the amber sky, entertained by this naïve child and at the same time taking pleasure in talking about Gallifrey as if it still existed. It did, in a way, but he could never go there again. He knew the Doctor would refuse. He had to wonder if the Doctor had ever talked to his companions about Gallifrey like this.

They weren't too far from the Lightman Group's headquarters when they heard screaming from down the street. Perhaps had the Master been a bit too influenced by the Doctor, because he was running for the sound without thinking. Emily was at his heels.

When they arrived, the street was littered with bodies. They appeared to have dropped dead instantly. In the middle of the slaughter was a body with tentacles protruding from its skull.

"Don't go near it," the Master told Emily as he toed around the bodies. Typical that the Doctor had taken his screwdriver right before things got heated. It was better to go back and not risk his neck.

A van sped towards them and hit the breaks, screeching to a halt by the infested body.

"They're here for the body," Emily said, looking to the Master.

"Not our problem," the Master was about to say, but Emily ran off. He called after the goddamn stupid girl in vain.

Men leapt out of the van to grab the body. When they saw Emily running for them, they appeared to panic. In their haste, they grabbed her as well. She kicked and screamed, not short of a bite at all, but she wasn't getting anywhere by it.

The Master couldn't really do anything. He so missed his powers. Even if they'd used up his life force, it had been a great excuse to eat everything he liked. Now he simply had to explain this to the Doctor and Cal without getting ripped to shreds.

*

"You let my daughter run right at them and get kidnapped?"

The Master presumed this was a rhetorical question. Cal was furious. Rarely had the Master seen a human who could be so threatening; he actually stepped back as he got Cal screaming in his face.

"You let them take my daughter," he yelled, taking the Master by the front of his jacket. He was near frothing around the mouth, and it took Gillian and the Doctor to haul him away and calm him down somewhat.

"We have a trace on the car. We'll find her, Cal."

"And then I'll rip this schmuck into pieces."

"There was nothing he could have done," the Doctor said. His firm hand on the Master's shoulder said otherwise.

"You don't believe that any more than I do. I told him to _stay away_ from Emily," Cal snarled.

"Trace on the car," Gillian reminded. She was worried sick, but she had her priorities right. "We must find Emily before anything bad happens. Agent Reynolds will know how to handle this."

Cal whipped around to face the Doctor. "You. You don't look like you're bothered to wait for the authorities. You know how to handle danger."

"I may have saved the world at one or twenty occasions, yes."

"Then you're coming with me," Cal said. He was over the computer, writing down the address.

"Right then. Master, get Amy and Rory and follow us, will you?"

"I need my screwdriver," the Master insisted.

"You're not killing anyone."

"I won't be any help without my screwdriver."

They glared at each other for a moment before the Doctor handed the screwdriver back.

There were a lot of protests from Gillian, but Cal was unstoppable at this point. The five of them were off, heading to an abandoned factory in one of the more questionable districts.

Getting there, they split up. The Doctor would go with Cal, the Master with Amy and Rory. Cal was too prone to break the Master's neck for them to be anywhere near each other.

"He's usually agreeable," the Doctor told Cal, who was walking and fuming ahead. "He was a lot worse back in the days, you should have seen him. Not trying to take over the world half as many times as he used to."

"Keep telling yourself that. You don't even believe it yourself," Cal growled. "The Master is an insane murderer and he's using you. He doesn't even pretend to be nice to you."

There was an uneasy smile on the Doctor's lips. "It's complicated. We have a long history together. He used to want to kill me."

"He won't even refer to you by name. 'Eleven', is that what he called you?"

The Doctor's lips tightened in a thin line. "You don't know what that means."

Cal looked back at him over his shoulder, scornful.

"And yet you cringe whenever he says it. You hate it. If you want to keep fooling yourself, that's none of my business, but you're keeping that lunatic away from Emily."

"On another note, you seem to take all this 'saving the world' stuff with surprising ease," the Doctor pointed out.

"Classic deflection," Cal accused. "You know I am right."

"That beautiful brain of yours doesn't have an off switch, does it?"

While the Doctor and Cal ventured further into the abandoned fabric without finding much, the Master, Amy and Rory were less fortunate. There were guards with guns, and while the Master had incinerated two of them, they were in trouble. Amy and the Master had thrown themselves into hiding behind some dusty machinery, but they had gotten separated from Rory. The guards had run after him in the opposite direction and Amy was fretting. She was also searching franticly along the floor.

"Dropped an earring, Pond?" the Master asked. People had shot at them with guns and her fiancé was lost. There really were more important things.

"Found it," Amy sighed out. She picked her engagement ring up from the floor.

"How about a pocket?" the Master suggested testily. He peeked out from behind their cover to see if the coast was clear. "You should go back and find the Doctor. Tell him they're armed."

"Rory's out there," Amy protested. "And I don't have any pockets."

"Give it here," the Master said.

Amy turned to face him, but made no other move.

"I have pockets, you dumb girl. And a weapon. You'll just get yourself killed. The Doctor will do a better job at looking after you."

Amy didn't like it but she handed the ring over and got up. "Thanks. You had better find him."

The Master sighed. The things he did for the Doctor's admirers. At least with Amy running back to the Doctor, he didn't have to worry about being responsible for her. He could press on without concern for her.

He didn't see a lot of guards. That couldn't be a good thing. It meant that the Doctor and Cal were likely running into the bulk. Oh well, it was their problem now.

He came to a halt when he entered a spacious room with a gallery behind glass walls. Shots were being fired up in the gallery, but the Master was more concerned with the many bodies laid out on tables in the room. They filled the entire floor and tentacles were poking out of several heads. It was a farm for the parasite alien. One wrong step and these things would release a poisonous gas. The Master tiptoed past, quite certain that regeneration wouldn't cover this one.

He snuck his way up to the gallery, staying within the doorway. Rory had taken cover across the room behind a table while a guard approached, shooting after him. Emily was tied to a chair at the far end.

The Master considered, but wasn't keen on taking a bullet or chancing on hitting Emily. He didn't need Cal's wrath brought down on him.

"Rory," he called out. He threw his screwdriver across the room. Rory fumbled and dropped it on the floor, but grabbed it before it rolled away.

"How do you use this?" Rory yelled.

"You push the button, you moron."

A laser beam shot across the room and hit the guard by chance. He was incinerated and turned to dust. Rory was shocked at his own actions.

The Master scrabbled out of hiding to snatch his screwdriver back.

"Far better than sonic, don't you agree?"

Rory just stammered. Emily was equally shocked, but Rory had a mind to go and untie her.

"Where's Amy?" he asked.

"With the Doctor. I told her to go back."

Rory looked back at the Master with surprise.

"Oh, shut up," the Master growled.

More guards were piling in. Rory shoved Emily behind a table and the Master leapt back in action with the screwdriver. He had to wonder what all these people were even doing with the aliens, but he couldn't say he was surprised to find humans farming alien parasites.

One after another the guards fell, but the Master alone wasn't enough to protect them. There was a cry from behind him. Rory collapsed. Now he knew he was thoroughly fucked whether he survived this or not. Emily was beside herself, and this was when the Doctor, Cal and Amy arrived. They had more people at their heels and the Doctor did the only thing he could. He closed the gallery door and deadlocked it behind them.

The Master had cleared the gallery and he looked back at Rory. Emily was crouching by his body, but a bright crack in the wall had distracted her. It was reaching out tendrils of light.

"Emily, back off!" the Master called out. He grabbed her and hauled her away from Rory's body right as Amy entered and saw Rory bleeding out on the floor. The crack in time didn't matter. It took the Doctor and the Master together to hold her back.

"No! Rory," she screamed. "This is your fault," she yelled at the Master, kicking at his shins. "You did this on purpose, you were supposed to keep him safe!"

Cal was quick to grab Emily, but his eyes were on the light consuming Rory's body. "Doctor, what _is_ that?" he asked, backing off.

"A crack in Time," the Doctor explained. He took Amy and made her look at him. "Amy. Listen to me. There is nothing we can do, it has him already and he is going to be erased. He is never going to have existed unless you remember him. _You_ must remember him, Amy, concentrate."

"It's the Master's fault," she sobbed, still wanting to haul Rory's body away from the rift.

"The Master saved us," Emily protested. "He saved Rory, he didn't do this."

"Em, this doesn't have anything to do with us," Cal told her. "Just keep away from that light."

Already the memories were fading. Not for the Doctor and the Master, but everyone else in this timeline were starting to forget as soon as Rory's body had been taken by the light. Amy quieted down and Cal simply hugged Emily in relief. She had forgotten that she had just seen a man get shot.

They were, however, reminded that there were guards in the room below trying to get to them. Cal was infuriated that they had dared lay a hand on his daughter. He let go of Emily and grabbed a gun from the floor.

"If those aliens are startled, they'll release poison gas. Nothing that can reach us up here, can it?" he asked. He looked ready to shoot whatever the answer was.

"You're not killing those men in cold blood," the Doctor said. "We will find a way to escape without making you a murderer."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Cal growled, but the Doctor was insistent. There was no way he could wrestle the gun out of Cal's hand, but he would damn well try.

The Master decided to act on everyone's behalf and took another gun from the floor. The window shattered and the bullet went straight into one of the bodies laid out below. The aliens acted accordingly.

The Doctor looked at the Master with blank eyes as the gas killed off their pursuers. The Master had a feeling that the Doctor had seen this coming, that he might actually have banked on it. Still he was disappointed. That was just unfair.

*

The case was closed. Everyone had seen far too much excitement for one day, and back at the Lightman Group headquarters they were getting their bearings. I.E. the Doctor was ushering them all into the TARDIS before any more questions or accusations could be thrown around.

"I still wonder about that Cal Lightman," the Master said. "He was quick to trust you for an intelligent person."

"Everyone trusts me," the Doctor sniffed. He was typing in their next coordinates. "But he already knew about me. He just forgot."

It took a moment before this clicked in the Master's mind. "Not Torchwood again, is it?" he groaned. The Doctor grinned.

"Cal Lightman was British Intelligence. Mycroft Holmes sent him to infiltrate Torchwood a good while back. Jack told me about him. A very good asset to their team, but he had to be retconned when they found out he was a spy. If there's a secret organization, trust Cal Lightman to have had a foot inside."

"Too bad he didn't remember a thing, or he might have been some help," the Master scoffed.

Neither he nor the Doctor said anything for a while. Amy had gone to change and get ready for their next destination. The Time Lords weren't sure what to do with her. She wasn't even grieving the loss of her fiancé.

"Do you swear to me that you had nothing to do with it?" the Doctor asked.

"No, I told you," the Master insisted. "Emily told you. And do you really think I would kill him? He was far too much fun to tease when he was alive."

The Doctor wasn't buying it. He was looking at the Master in that way of his that could make anyone squirm. This wasn't sitting well with the Master.

"You used to trust me," the Master said. There was accusation in his voice.

"I never trusted you. I never could; whenever I did, you stabbed me in the back."

"You let it slide," the Master gritted out. "You trusted me at least to _some_ extent. What did Lightman tell you?"

"Nothing I didn't already know," the Doctor assured with a frigid look in his eyes. "You still resent me. You look right through me and it's as if you're still waiting for 'your Doctor' to come back."

"I wish I didn't. Do you think I am enjoying this?"

"You _left_ me."

The Master looked at the Doctor, incredulous.

"That's what this is about?"

"And you're and ass," the Doctor added. "Something I've grown used to over the centuries, but there is only so much I can take."

The Master shook his head, needing a moment to take in what the Doctor was saying. "You. _You_. Do I even know a fraction of the people you have left behind? Your so-called 'companions'? Never mind that. How many times have you been _married_ only to run off? And you're complaining about trust and being left behind?"

"You don't see me complain often," the Doctor replied stiffly. "But perhaps you were special."

"Who could feel special with you?" the Master spat. "You reduced me to just another companion and that's just not enough for me."

"You would be more than just a companion if you thought of me as more than a number."

The Doctor was in the right here; he wouldn't budge. Though they were both throwing accusations at each other, the Master had been moping for long enough. He was a Time Lord, not a human who was foreign to the concept of regeneration. Really, the Master had done it more often than the Doctor, he wasn't one to complain. Perhaps he just needed the conflict.

Predictably, the Master had no argument against that. He glared at the Doctor, then looked away.

"I don't care what you think of us," he said. "But I finally did something good, and you don't even believe it. Amy trusted me."

"She doesn't know you like I do."

The Master took the engagement ring out of his pocket. He looked at it, turned it over in his fingers. Then he set it down on the dashboard of the TARDIS. He glared death at it before he looked back at the Doctor, no more pleasant. "I don't want to stay with you anymore."

"I'm not letting you leave," the Doctor replied. The ring surprised him but he didn't show it. Amy had trusted the Master and now he felt bad for letting her down. The Doctor could only call it progress, but the Master was still so, so dangerous.

"That's what I thought. I am just letting you know that you can no longer rely on your charms to keep me here. I don't imagine you'd ever have the will to see me leave again."

The Doctor said nothing. So many lives had been lost because he let the Master live and roam about as he pleased. The Doctor didn't have it in him to keep him locked up and the consequences of that were catastrophic. Anyone but the Master would have been a prisoner, had they done the things he did.

With the Master off to sulk by himself, the Doctor picked up the ring. It didn't take a genius to understand that it would be difficult for them to stay together, but it had worked out for a while, before he regenerated. It was the Master holding them back.

"Doctor?"

Amy was back. The Doctor quickly straightened up and put on his smile as he faced her.

"Any requests for our next destination, Pond?"

"How about Ancient Rome? I always wanted to see that."

"Ah, we had a bit of an incident back there with the Master," the Doctor said, apologetic. "But so long as it's not Caligula..."

Amy's eyes were on the ring. The Doctor trailed off in hope that she would remember something. Rory didn't have to be truly lost.

"Did the Master give you that?" she asked.

"Yes," the Doctor replied. He was looking for any signs of recognition on her face.

"Oh. Congratulations? I didn't know if Time Lords had a tradition of marriage."

"What? No. I mean, yes. You would be surprised by how many societies, no matter how simplistic, have some form of marriage tradition but what I mean is no, no the Master and I are not getting married," the Doctor said, utterly flustered and caught off guard. "This belongs to a friend. Not him. Though he is a friend, or actually I don't even know that, but this belonged to a very precious friend of mine. He was keeping it for that friend of mine and then he gave it to me."

Amy blinked, having no idea what the Doctor was going on about.

"Amy Pond," the Doctor sighed. He took her by her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Nothing is really lost, you just have to remember it."

Amy was more confused than ever, but she was also sad. She couldn't explain why, but there was a horrible sadness eating away at her. Before she knew it, tears were streaming down her face and the Doctor was hugging her. She just couldn't understand why.

*

The argument between the Doctor and the Master didn't make too much of a difference, other than in bed. The Doctor wasn't afraid of the Master running off, not without the TARDIS. This meant carrying on like usual and never taking his eyes off his precious time machine. The Master was no less destructive or unpleasant. It would forever be a mystery to the Doctor why he insisted on keeping the man with him.

It might have something to do with how possessive the Master was of him. He fought not to show it, but when they visited the oldest planet in the universe only to find "Hello Sweetie" carved into a cliff face by River Song, the Master was boiling over with jealousy. The Doctor enjoyed every second of it.

The Master was complaining all the way to Britain 102 AD, where River Song's message had sent them.

"The woman is an obsessed fan. She's stalking you and she's not even that pretty," the Master insisted. "There's no point in seeing her. It's boring and besides, it was my time to choose a destination."

"You can stay in the TARDIS until we get back," the Doctor said as they strode out into ancient history.

"You would lock me up."

"I never heard you complain about handcuffs before."

"I did. You never use them in fun situations."

"Too much information," Amy cut in.

Their conversation came to a halt when they saw the roman army parked on a giant field before them.

"Oh. Yes. Romans invaded Britain several times during this period," the Doctor remarked.

"Oh, I know," Amy said. "My favourite topic at school. Invasion of the hot Italians."

"I know, right?"

The Doctor looked at them both with disapproval.

A soldier ran up to them and he was looking at the Doctor. "All hail Cesar!" he called out.

It was a very interesting beginning to the day, being invited to see Cleopatra. The Master was still disapproving, but he almost had a fit when he saw River in an Egyptian wig waiting for them.

"You grafitied the oldest cliff face in the universe," the Doctor remarked. He was, initially, not too happy either.

"You wouldn't answer your phone," River excused herself.

"I told you to get a mobile," the Master said with an exasperated noise. "Then we wouldn't have needed to go all the way out here and meet her."

"Except for this," River said. She presented the Doctor with a rolled-up painting. "It's your friend Vincent's work."

They rolled out the painting and they immediately saw that there was reason to be worried. Even the Master was. The TARDIS exploding would cause more than physical damage.

"There are coordinates on the door, see? It's not far from here."

"Does it have a title?" the Doctor asked.

"The Pandorica Opens."

"What's a Pandorica?" Amy asked.

"A box, or a cage, a prison. It was built to contain the most feared thing in all the universe," River explained.

"There's just one problem," the Master said. "I'm clearly out here."

He got a couple of sharp looks.

"It's a myth," the Doctor insisted. "A fairytale, a legend. It can't be real."

"You're all missing out on what's really important," the Master broke in, getting their attention again.

"What?" the Doctor asked. He was stressed out because of the painting; the talk about the Pandorica didn't help.

"She's Cleopatra, you're Cesar and I'm Caligula. Don't tell me I am seriously the only one who sees the potential in this."

"Caligula?" River asked.

"Long story," the Doctor dismissed her and he stepped in front of the Master, taking him by his shoulders. "You," he sighed, shaking his head. "My murderous optimist, if you would please shut up and help out for once, that would make me very happy, thank you."

The Master huffed and looked away. "I would make a better Cleopatra, anyway."

After this had been proven by passing River's wig around, they were off to Stonehenge, the only place in the vicinity where they imagined the Pandorica could be buried. They found the stairs down and the Doctor was surprised to find that this fairytale was real.

"Oh, come on, Eleven. This always happens when you say something doesn't exist. Isomorphic screwdriver, remember that?" the Master taunted. "Nothing should surprise you anymore."

"Don't call me that," the Doctor said with a frown. He was running around the place scanning, and so was River. Stonehenge was transmitting, and things were looking bleak. They had Daleks approaching, Cybermen, Sontarans and everything else that the Doctor had possibly upset.

"I half expect you to get up there and join them," he muttered.

"It's been on my mind, yes," the Master assured.

"Good thing we have the finest war machine ever constructed right outside the door," the Doctor said, clapping his hands together. "Master, while I hate asking you to do things, disastrous as the turnout usually is, I need you to recruit some Romans."

The Master rolled his eyes. "They would never have stood a chance against me."

"You're sending him out on his own?" River asked. "I won't have you putting our lives in his hands."

"Then you can go with him," the Doctor suggested.

"No she can't," the Master argued. "I never needed her help to acquire an army before."

"Now is a good time to start. Both of you, off you go," the Doctor said, shooing them off. He was more concerned with the Pandorica than with them. This served to annoy the Master enough to stomp off with River at his heels.

"What is your problem with me?" River asked as they approached the roman camp. "You shouldn't have a problem with me already."

"Thinking the Doctor is at your beck and call is what my problem with you is, though I'm sure I'll have all the more reasons later on."

"You called him the Doctor just now," River pointed out with amusement.

Fists clenched, the Master said nothing more.

The two of them were able to convince at least some of the soldiers to help the Doctor out. Fifty roman soldiers against some hundred thousand spaceships would have the same effect as pissing in the ocean, but the Doctor would surely come up with something clever. Funny how he always got people to fight for him.

This was when the Doctor contacted River, and the Master leaned in to listen.

"I need you to move the TARDIS," was his request.

"Hey, I can fly it," the Master butted in.

"River, under no circumstances let him fly that thing alone, but it might be best if you take him along. Things are going to get heated down here."

"You're letting me drive," the Master hissed at River who was doing a good job of ignoring him and marching ahead. The Master didn't like it one bit how the Doctor was giving her more attention than him.

They got back to the TARDIS and River took the controls. Except the TARDIS was being disagreeable again.

"It wants me to drive," the Master immediately said. The TARDIS responded with a violent shake that threw him against the railing. That bloody machine hated him.

"I don't know what's wrong. I think she's trying to take us somewhere," River said. She was trying to override the controls but it wasn't long until the TARDIS had stopped in a new location and let them out.

They were at Amy's house. It wasn't hard to recognize. Her room was littered with things she had made as a child. A little wooden TARDIS and a doll of herself and the Doctor. The Master was almost a little sad she hadn't met him as a child and made him into a doll as well, but that wasn't the point. The book about Ancient Rome, Pandora's Box, it was all starting to piece together and River was contacting the Doctor again.

The Doctor was getting impatient for the TARDIS, but River explained the situation, how it all had to be a product of Amy's memories. None of this was making sense.

The Master and River had gotten back into the TARDIS and were trying to return to the Doctor while this conversation was taking place, and that turned out to have been a terrible idea.

"Look, when are you?" the Doctor asked. He was starting to sound panicked.

The Master ran over to the display.

"26th of June, 2010," he read out. He was getting a sudden feeling of dread. "Eleven?"

"No, no, any other date, fly the TARDIS out of there," the Doctor yelled out for them both to hear.

"I am trying!" River sneered. "Doctor, something is wrong with the TARDIS, it's refusing to land."

"Let the Master fly it if you can't."

"You taught me how to fly this thing, I know what I'm doing."

"Both of us together can't stop this. This isn't it, is it?" the Master asked. He was honestly scared.

"I'm afraid it is," the Doctor replied. "The cracks spreading out across time are from the TARDIS exploding on this date. Get out of there, both of you."

The Master and River looked at each other in panic.

"If we get out, the engines will shut down by themselves," the Master said.

"Well, come on, then." River pushed the transmitter into the Master's hand and ran for the door.

The doors wouldn't open. She yanked at them but they were firmly shut. The Master stood there with the transmitter in his hand, not quite hearing the orders that the Doctor was shouting at them.

"I'm going to die here with _her_ ," the Master said with an expression of disgust.

"Not half as bad as dying here with _you_ ," River yelled back at him.

The Master raised the transmitter back to his ear. He was numb. "I'm sorry, Doctor."

There was silence from the other side. He'd just admitted he was sorry and the Doctor wasn't even responding. Gritting his teeth, he ran to help River with the manual override of the doors. It didn't exactly help. When they forced the doors open, they were met with a smooth stone wall.

"This is the shittiest of days," the Master sighed.

He might have chosen some different words if he knew that they would be transmitted in a time loop for the Doctor to pick up on after a series of events involving the Pandorica and the old switcheroo. Rory spent two thousand years guarding the Pandorica with Amy inside, until they were joined by the Doctor at the museum in the year 2010. Up on the roof they could see the exploding TARDIS like a sun in the sky.

To the Master and River, it felt like no time at all before the Doctor popped up in the TARDIS.

"A vortex manipulator? That's the tackiest of time travel," the Master hissed at him. "You had better not get addicted."

"Shut up. Both of you, come with me," the Doctor said, taking both River and the Master by their arms and teleporting them down to Earth, away from the explosion to join Rory and Amy on the roof of the museum.

"Rory?" the Master exclaimed.

"He's plastic," the Doctor explained.

"I am sure we both have a lot of questions," River said and turned to the Doctor. "First of all. _What_ in the name of sanity have you got on your head?"

The Master put his hands on his hips and looked at the Doctor as well.

"It's a fez. I wear a fez now," the Doctor explained. "Fezzes are cool."

Amy grabbed the fez off his head and threw it in the air. The Master whipped out his laser screwdriver and blew it up before it even reached the peak of its trajectory. It was a job well done.

"Did you hear what I told you?" the Master asked as he looked back at the Doctor.

"What, about this being the shittiest of days? I would have to agree."

"No, about being—"

" _Exterminate. Exterminate_."

A Dalek was elevating up to the roof and they scattered as it shot after them. They escaped back down inside the museum.

"What was with the cheap Technicolor paintjob?" the Master asked.

"New design. I did try to stop them with a jammy dodger," the Doctor apologized.

"Go go Dalek rangers."

"Now, we need to hurry," the Doctor said. "We have four and a half minute before it shoots me."

"Shoots you?"

"Oh, shut up, never mind," the Doctor waved it off as if it was the most minute of matters. He was hurrying down the stairs with everyone else tailing behind him. "The restoration field of the Pandorica brought the Dalek back to life. Back to existence. In fact, it never existed because the TARDIS blew up and destroyed everything, but now it does."

"Only a few particles of the old universe would contain the information needed to restore it. Given enough power, the Pandorica could recreate everything," the Master joined in. He could see a solution to all this, but then he got a sudden, dreadful feeling of where this was going.

"Exactly," the Doctor said with a smirk. "We're going to reboot the universe." He snapped his fingers. "Come on."

"But you would need infinite energy to restore everything," the Master continued, all fears confirmed.

"And we have one."

"That's what worries me. Doctor..." The Master grabbed him by his arm and stopped him in his tracks. He looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

"You called me Doctor."

"What's he planning on doing?" Amy asked. She was catching onto the Master's worry, and so was everyone else, even if they couldn't quite see how this worked out.

"Big Bang Two," the Doctor said with a smile that only scratched the surface of his expression. He looked at the Master. "I'm sorry."

"I won't let you—"

The Master couldn't finish his sentence. The Doctor was hit by a beam from the Dalek that had been pursuing them.

" _Exterminate. Exterminate_."

The Doctor collapsed on the floor. The Master didn't have time to kneel down by him, that would be River's job. He was too busy whipping out the screwdriver and blowing the Dalek into pieces with an enraged sneer.

When he looked down, the Doctor had activated his vortex manipulator and was gone.

"What the—Where did he go?"

"Downstairs," Amy said.

"How do you know?" River asked.

"We saw him," Rory explained. "Before he rescued you, he arrived from the future."

"Then what are we waiting for?" the Master asked.

"He died."

Amy was devastated. The Master gritted his teeth, then made a run for it. The Doctor couldn't die. Not now. He skidded down the stairs and almost tripped in Rory's coat, which had been left on the floor.

"He was supposed to be here," Rory said.

"Are you sure he was dead?" River asked.

"He said he was."

"Well, he lied to you, you morons," the Master snapped. "This way."

He ran towards the Pandorica, knowing what the Doctor had planned. True enough, the Doctor was sitting inside of it. This was when it all clicked into place for River as well.

"Oh. Big Bang two."

"What?" Amy asked. "What is he doing?"

The Master ran up to the Doctor to check on him and took his face in his hands. The Doctor was barely responding.

"The Pandorica's restoration field, powered by an exploring TARDIS. It's exploding at every point in time, it's going to restore everything if you throw the Pandorica into the heart of the explosion. He's wired the vortex manipulator to it."

"He's going to fly it there _himself_?"

River looked back at the Doctor, who was being poured over by a distressed Master who was refusing this to happen. And all around them the world was shaking, unravelling at increasing speed.

"It will close the cracks in time and save everyone," River murmured.

"But he's going to be alright, isn't he?"

The expression on River's face assured her that this was not the case.

"None of us will even remember him."

While they talked and watched, the Doctor was coming to. He felt the Master's hand on his cheek, genuine worry and affection. Even if he was dying, about to bring on his own death, he had to smile.

"Hello, you," he murmured once he got the Master's face in focus. "The Master who waited. All this time. Waiting for your Doctor to return to you."

"I know what you're planning and I won't let it happen," the Master gritted out. "What am I going to be without you?"

"You'll get to run around and destroy things, no me to stop you taking over the universe. You should be thrilled." The Doctor's voice was weak, but he sounded almost happy for the Master. That was just wrong.

The Master took one of the Doctor's hands in his own, holding onto it, tangling their fingers together.

"But... you were supposed to fix me."

"I couldn't, though. But I'll tell you a secret."

The Doctor could barely keep his eyes open. The Master wasn't even trying to stop his tears.

"What?"

"I always liked you, just as you are. No fixing needed."

It was too much for the Master. He pressed his face against the Doctor's chest, shoulders shaking.

"I tried to tell you I was sorry."

"Didn't hear. Roman soldiers dragged me away from the phone."

"Goddamn you," the Master hissed. He looked up at the Doctor again, eyes red. "You don't have to go alone this time."

"I'd handcuff you, but... Sort of dying right now. Would you mind doing it yourself?" the Doctor asked. He coughed softly.

"I mean it," the Master said. "You keep trying to protect me, but this time we're supposed to go together," he insisted. "You won't escape this."

"But you can. You'll be fine, you won't even know I existed," the Doctor assured. "I rather you forget about me than die."

"That's not what _I_ want," the Master complained.

"Someone has to be the last Time Lord."

"But—"

The Doctor used his last strength to pull him close and claim his lips. It was a painful kiss wet with tears and full of passion, and then the Doctor shoved him back and away from the Pandorica. Before the Master could regain his balance, he activated the vortex manipulator. The Pandorica closed and shook before it shot to the sky.

They were all knocked into the wall by the force of the box. River's transmitter beeped with one last written word from the Doctor; " _Geronimo!_ "

*

The Doctor was, for a second, convinced that death had once again eluded him. Unlike being a ginger, it always pleased him when death did that. Eluded him, that was. But then he realized that he hadn't survived at all. He was rewinding. His whole life span was unravelling and he was stuck watching the repeats. If anything, he could do one last attempt at helping his friends.

He saw Amy and spoke to her twice. He was already choking up by then, but he stuck around, hoping to be reminded of the good times with the Master.

He was disappointed to find himself in the TARDIS only to be met by the argument they had right after he regenerated.

" _The teeth are all wrong, now."_

" _I could have been dead! Would that have made you any happier?"_

The Doctor unconsciously ran his tongue over his teeth, eyes fixed on the Master storming out of the TARDIS. He hated repeats. He wouldn't be the Doctor if he didn't know how to make the best of it, though. He followed the Master of the past outside the TARDIS. The door was slammed and he watched the Master stop in his tracks, mind wondering what would happen next.

"It's alright," the Doctor said. The Master couldn't hear him, but his words might still have some effect. "I'll forgive you. Just keep a lookout for cracks in time and come running when you think I'm in danger, why don't you?" He smirked to himself. "I knew you cared all along."

The Master looked alerted, as if he could sense something, but now the Doctor was moving on to the next moment in time. He found himself in a familiar room in the TARDIS and everything was quiet. He checked his watch. This was right after the incident with Titanic. Space Titanic, that was. He turned around to see the Master in a corner, asleep. His hair was rumpled and his eyes were red from crying. He'd been locked up for some time.

"Oh dear, look at you," the Doctor murmured. He strode over to the Master, sitting down by him and pulling him into a careful embrace. "I did terrible, terrible things to you, didn't I? That won't have happened anymore." He sighed. The Master looked like such a pitiful little child. Plagued by the sound in his head, there was no wonder he was insane.

The Doctor stroked his hair and cradled his sleeping form. "But don't worry," he whispered. "The drums will go away one day. It won't make you any less you, trust me, but they'll be gone, and that's when we'll have the best days of our lives, you and me and the stars. The Doctor and the Master in the TARDIS, and the days that never will be. I hope you'll dream about it."

He rested his head on the Master's shoulder with a sigh. He could hear his heartbeat. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. It was a mesmerizing noise, he had to agree. "You know, I've called a lot of things beautiful. Machines, aliens, Cal Lightman's brain and a number of other things that may or may not have been inanimate but..."

He left the thought hanging. It was time to move on to the next memory and he carefully let go of the Master. When he got up from the floor, he was ankle-deep in red grass. Oh, this memory was going to break him.

He was staring out over silver forests and a burning sky. Silhouetted against the setting suns was the hill on which they had parked the TARDIS, and there they were, in their stolen robes, lying in the grass and watching the dusk creep up on them.

The Master and the Doctor, having their first kiss under Gallifrey's amber sky. It had been surprising more than it had been pleasant, but the Doctor of the present couldn't help but think that he'd rather be dead than for this to never have happened. Curious, how no one else was going to miss this moment.

He noticed that one sneaky tear had made its way down his cheek and he wiped it away, staring at his wet fingers with dumbfound sadness. "Oh, look at me," he said with a smile. "All teary-eyed. As if the world was ending, haha. Ridiculous."

He shook his head and turned away. "I think we'll skip the rest there. Don't think I could stand to see Seven's outfit ever again, anyway." His former taste in question marks was a particularly bad memory.

All he had to do was walk through the crack. He'd never belonged in this Gallifrey and he certainly didn't belong on this side of the crack any more. Now he was just wrong, and if anyone had the courage to step through the crack in order to keep the universe safe, it was him.

*

Amy Pond had parents. She had a fussing mother and a tiny dad. She was also getting married that day, to Rory Williams. It was the most beautiful day of her life. Actually, she wasn't sure that was correct. She was sure she had seen things beyond what any human ever had, but when she tried to put it to words, she could only think of how her wedding was the most beautiful day of her life.

At the wedding reception, she started crying and she couldn't understand why. She'd seen a woman pass by outside and something stirred in her memory. Her father was trying to get his speech done and everyone was waiting when someone came up to her and said there was a man there to see her. She went to the door together with Rory.

"Who are you?" she asked. She looked the man up and down. He was blond, dressed in a tux. In a way he reminded her of a former Prime Minister, but that was a ridiculous notion.

"That's really of no importance," the Master said. "But I was on my way and this woman outside wanted me to give you this." He held out a book with blue cover. It looked a little worn. Amy took it and flipped through the pages. They were blank.

"Oh. Right, thank you," she said, staring at the book still. Then she looked back up at the man. He was so familiar, and at the same time not. "Excuse me, but why are you here?" she asked. He was dressed for the wedding and she had a feeling he may have been invited.

"I don't know." The Master was looking around with a frown. "Someone important would have wanted me to be here."

Amy and Rory exchanged looks.

"Oh, neither of _you_ ," the Master laughed. "You're not important. Why _am_ I here? I don't even like you humans. The moment this is over I am growing myself a TARDIS and leaving this stinking planet."

He was on his way to the punch bowl, but neither Rory nor Amy had a mind to stop him.

"Is he one of your..." Rory couldn't quite find the word. "Friends?"

"I thought he was one of yours," Amy replied.

"I don't think so. I know him, though."

"Yeah." Amy narrowed her eyes at him while they walked back to their seats. "Friend of a friend maybe?"

"That must be it," Rory agreed. "But whose?"

The Master was getting quite a few stares, but Amy and Rory had no mind to make him leave. Having him there was a pain, but it was right, in a way.

After sitting down, Amy kept pouring over the book she had been given. It was Rory who reminded her of that saying, and she took liberty of interrupting her father by standing up and shouting it out. Someone was supposed to be there. The missing link between them and that strange blondie getting drunk off their punch, someone she'd never, ever have her wedding without, her childhood without. And no one believed her when she talked about her raggedy doctor, but it was like that old wedding proverb. Something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. And there was no better blue than TARDIS-blue.

Everyone stared in shock as the phone box began to materialize in the middle of the room. Amy was walking over the table with intent and the Master had stopped assaulting the alcohol.

"How could we forget the Doctor?" Rory asked no one in particular.

Amy was at the door to the TARDIS when it opened and the Doctor peeked out with a top hat on, tux and scarf and everything.

"Surprised you this time, didn't I?" she asked.

"Most definitely," the Doctor assured. He was as surprised by his existence as all the other guests in the room. He stepped out, bright as ever and far too smug about being alive.

"Oh, you absolutely may definitely kiss the bride," Amy said, only to be shoved aside by the Master.

"One moment," the Doctor said, holding his hands up before the Master could assault him. "I need to move my box. We need space."

"What?" the Master asked. "You just rematerialized into existence after saving the entire universe. What is _more_ important than me?"

"Dancing."

"Don't you _dare_."

"Don't worry, I'll dance with you as well," the Doctor said before he vanished into the TARDIS and left.

For once, he hadn't gone far. With the TARDIS parked outside, it wasn't long until the Doctor was in and joining the festivities.

"You're terrible," the Master told him. "Your last incarnation was way better."

"You should have seen Nine. He was brilliant," the Doctor said with a grin. "I forgot again. Now, keep loose. This is brilliant."

The Doctor rocked out without shame and span the Master around on the dance floor. Amy too, when the Master could spare her a second. It was when the music slowed down that the Master took the Doctor all to himself and held him as close as possible. Lights turned down, it was almost romantic between the two, and the Master made sure to take lead so the Doctor wasn't embarrassing them.

"I still can't believe you left me," the Master muttered against the Doctor's shoulder.

"Had to save the universe. You've endangered it so many times, you know how it is," the Doctor murmured in return.

The Master pressed his cheek to the Doctor's chest with closed eyes. He wasn't so much dancing with him as he was holding onto him and swaying on the spot.

"Reminds me of Titanic."

"Excuse me, but are you cuddling?" the Doctor asked, just to clarify.

"Shut up. You didn't exist," the Master said. To assure himself that he hadn't gone completely soft, he made the Doctor yelp.

"Hands! Down boy. Hands back in place," the Doctor scolded.

Smirking, the Master nuzzled back against the Doctor's neck. The Doctor calmed down, and he had to smile.

"Do you remember Gallifrey? When you and I went together?"

"Mh. What about it?" the Master asked. He missed it still.

"Just checking."

"We could go there again," the Master suggested. "If we ever wanted a place to settle down."

The looked at each other, then they laughed. As if they'd ever settle down. Imagining anything even remotely domestic for either of them was only short of impossible.

"Am I your Doctor now, then?"

The Master took the Doctor's top hat off and reached up to kiss him. It was a definite yes. They both got caught up in the kiss, not noticing anything around them while they snogged on the dance floor. They knew they'd fight again. The Master was bound to do something stupid and the Doctor was sure to punish him too hard and they'd get this whole mess started over again, but neither really minded so long as there were moments like these.

The night only lasted for so long, and the Doctor was getting itchy to move on. When no one was looking, he took the Master by his hand and dragged him outside to the TARDIS.

"Not going to ask if I want to come with you?"

"You're stuck with me," the Doctor said with a smirk at him over his shoulders. "That's what makes you special."

The Master shook his head with amusement and put the Doctor's top hat on. Once the door to the TARDIS was closed, he grabbed the Doctor by his bowtie.

"I never thanked you properly for saving all of time and space," he said, dragging the Doctor towards the stairs. The Doctor let himself be dragged, but his thoughts were on everything and anything, as always.

"Were you ever married?" he asked. "For real, I mean. With someone you cared about."

"I was married to Lucy. You see how well that went down," the Master replied, not too interested in the topic.

"I suppose she didn't appreciate how good you look in a suit."

"Shut up about her. We need to have sex before the Ponds get here."

They'd both had women in their lives. The Master probably not as many as the Doctor. Whether they liked each other more than they had liked any of those before was an uncertain thing, but there was something about being the last Time Lords.

They never got as far as any bed. The Master tripped the Doctor up and pinned him to the floor. He didn't care to wait or find somewhere comfortable. The Doctor wasn't protesting. He pulled the Master down, removing the top hat and tossing it aside as he kissed him. Indulging in it ravenously, the Master got the Doctor's tailcoat open. He was undoing the Doctor's tie when he felt hands grabbing his hips and the Doctor grinding up against his ass.

"You said I was getting a reward and we both know you really don't mind," the Doctor said with a snicker against his lips. He was working on getting the Master's trousers down. The Master rolled his eyes and continued with the bowtie.

"I said that as an incentive. I didn't _mean_ it. You don't even like being rewarded. If you were rewarded every time you saved the world, you wouldn't have time for anything else. You're a stick. I'd feel ridiculous with you on top. That's the price of regeneration for you."

"Now, that's not fair and while I know that things usually aren't, I have to protest. You needed Amy in order to remember me. I have all reason not to be pleased with you."

"You do that," the Master said with a smile as he looped the bowtie around the Doctor's wrists and bound them tightly.

The Doctor raised his brows. "Starting to like those, are you?"

"Not as much as the suspenders by far," the Master said. "Those I can use as reins. Here we are, two men in tuxes and yet we both know who the bride is."

"Do we?"

The Doctor still had all the freedom he needed to grab the Master by his collar, pull him down and roll him over. What followed was a bit of an awkward struggle to get the upper hand, but more than anything they were trying to get each other's clothes off. The tuxes were a bit too much work though, and it was a one-hearted job so long as they were able to access skin, kissing and biting and feeling each other up. In the end, it wasn't even much of a struggle any more as they both gave in to each other.

The Master would of course deny that they had become like equals in any way, even more firmly than he would deny that he let the Doctor have him. He was taking pity on the Doctor, he told himself as he lay on his back with the Doctor's arms around his neck. The Doctor's hands were still tied together and their bodies were tangled up in half-discarded clothes.

It was rushed and feverish, not the best he'd had but it was definitely special. The Doctor existed once more and he had come to terms with the regeneration. The point here was that the sooner and harder they screwed each other the better.

They lost track of time. Not for the first time did they find themselves wrapped around each other on the floor of the TARDIS' control room. Had anything changed, it was that there had never been this little animosity between them. Surely this was as good as it would ever get. It had to be all downhill from now on.

The two looked at each other, long since recuperated but too bloody comfortable and content to get up. The Doctor was about to say something when the doors to the TARDIS opened.

"Docto—Oi! I did not need to see that," Amy exclaimed as she spotted them on the floor. She covered Rory's eyes at once. Not her own.

The Doctor, quite red, was quickly up and pulling his clothes back on.

"Ah, Ponds. Sorry about all this, it's ah, well, in the spirits of weddings and all, you know, and celebrating the fact that I actually exist again."

"He's adorable when he rambles," the Master commented in a pleasant tone. He was a bit more languid about the situation as well as about getting dressed, and took his time to smooth his hair back and straighten his cuffs once they were back in place.

"Oh, shut up, you," the Doctor said, clearing his throat. "Well, then. Tonight was a blast, wasn't it?" He couldn't help smiling as he looked at the newlyweds. "Look at you two. All domestic, but making it look so nice."

"Like you aren't?" Amy asked, gesturing to the two of them.

"Hm? No, no. We're entirely different. We're casual, exciting, adventurous, nothing domestic at all," the Doctor assured.

"You're about bloody time, is what you are," Amy told him.

"Either way," the Master broke in with a firm look at Amy. "Now that you have seen the situation, I think we all know that this is time to say goodbye."

"But..." Rory looked to Amy, who looked at the Doctor, who smiled at them both.

"And be quick about it."

Amy ran for the door and Rory followed. The two shouted out their goodbyes and waved to the people at the reception, while the Master looked at the Doctor in horror.

"We're bringing the Ponds? I mean monkeys? We're bringing the monkeys?"

The Doctor just grinned and ran for the control panel to get them moving.

"Amy, close the door. All Ponds and Time Lords inside the TARDIS for takeoff. Next destination; anywhere."

And it always would be. Maybe the Doctor had a point when he'd told the Master so long ago that seeing and experiencing all of Time and Space was enough in a way of owning it. While companions like Amy and Rory might come and go, the Master was a Time Lord. He belonged here with his Doctor.

*

It should have ended there. That would have been happy. On the other hand, that was the problem with living for so bloody long; it never ever stopped when it ought to.

Amy and Rory left to go on their honeymoon. The Doctor and the Master had quite an interesting time of their own while they were alone in the TARDIS. Life was good and they were both getting steadily sorer by the day.

It was a while since it had been just the two of them. They savoured it for quite a while, but they were getting restless. The Doctor had people he wanted to pay visits, the Master needed to tend to his own neglected interests.

"That holiday resort you mentioned might not be a bad idea."

"Which one?" the Doctor inquired.

"The one I'll conquer and rule and enjoy a nice holiday at, bossing people around and not causing more destruction than you approve of," the Master reminded. Of course he would cause a lot more destruction than that, and the Doctor knew. He was hard to convince, but in the end they agreed on having a week apart.

The Doctor set the Master down on Earth. As sick as the Master was getting with the planet, he could see the charm in small, corporate takeovers. It could make an interesting hobby. Of course, before the weekend was over he had taken control of a massive hotel chain and was relaxing at a luxury resort in the States. The Doctor didn't need to know how many people had been brainwashed, tortured and killed in a matter of days.

What boggled the Master's mind was that, while he was leaning on the railing of his suite's balcony in only a bathrobe with a glass of champagne, looking at the sundown's brilliant reflection in the swimming pool, he truly missed the Doctor. He was getting his fill of carnage and comfort but he couldn't wait for the Doctor to rush in and stop him. Or fuck him in the Jacuzzi. Either way.

He ought to try and take over Earth again, if only for nostalgia's sake. Perhaps he'd even let the Doctor take him as a reward for stopping him. If the Doctor couldn't, then the Master would let him buy the Earth free with sex.

Grinning to himself, he took a sip of his champagne. Then he emptied the rest of the glass onto the head of the pool boy who was passing underneath the balcony. He let out a cruel giggle.

Life was perfect. Even if the Doctor wasn't with him, he could take pleasure in planning all the things he was going to do to him when they met again. He would say that this was when relationships were at their best; when they were at a distance and communication consisted mostly of sexting on the psychic paper.

He was torn away from his dirty mind fodder by someone knocking. Upon returning inside from the balcony he found that a letter had been pushed under his door. This amused him, as the Doctor never sent letters but it was obvious who it was from.

The envelope, TARDIS-blue and with a golden number on it, marked the change of everything.


	3. The Rebel Master

Earth, Utah, 21st century. A bus stopped at the side of a mostly deserted road to let off a couple of Ponds who were seeing the Doctor again for the first time in months. The Doctor was all too happy to greet them with tight hugs. Chatter was had and questions about the Doctor's new hat were posed.

"I wear a Stetson now. Stetsons are—"

That was all the Doctor managed to say before someone leapt onto his back and latched on like a koala clinging to the one branch preventing it from plummeting into a bottomless abyss below. A week turned out to be a lot for the Master, and the Master turned out to be a lot for the Doctor. He fell over facedown with the Master sitting on his back.

"Fancy seeing you again," the Doctor grunted. "Should I be touched that you missed me?"

"Don't make presumptions." The Master took the Doctor's hat and put it on his own head. It clashed wonderfully with his black suit and gloves. He'd even found a black coat with red lining like the one he had as Prime Minister. He bloody loved that coat. "Hello Ponds."

The point wasn't that the hat suited him. Stealing it from the Doctor was his way of showing affection. It was in fact quite the joyous reunion between the four. While he would never admit to it, the Master didn't mind seeing Amy and Rory again.

After playfully tormenting the Doctor and eliciting a few laughs from the Ponds, the Master allowed the Doctor to get back up. They dusted themselves off and faced each other, both genuinely happy. This was a phenomenon to be celebrated. On the other hand, there was something in the Doctor's eyes that threw the Master off. Remorse, secrecy, regret and worse of all...

"Egh. You are _old_ ," the Master accused. "How long has it been? We said we would meet up in a week."

"Time flies, you know how it is," the Doctor said and cleared his throat. "Time travel can be so distracting and there's always someone in need of rescuing or whatnot. Surely a couple of centuries more aren't enough to put you off. It's good to see you again," he rambled. He made sure to shut the disgruntled Master up with a kiss before any complaints could be had.

Gunfire interrupted the kiss. River greeted them all by shooting the hat off the Master's head.

"Hello Sweetie," she said, smirking at the Doctor.

"River!" the Doctor exclaimed.

"You're happy to see her," the Master complained, stroking over his hair to make sure it hadn't gotten singed. "Why is she here? Why did you invite her? She shot my hat."

"Oh. It's _you_ ," River remarked after bothering to check who the Doctor had been snogging.

"Flattering as always." The Master stuck his tongue out at her.

Once they had all moved to a nearby diner, it was only a matter of syncing their diaries. Seeing that the Doctor and River both had theirs, the Master had insisted upon wanting one as well. His also had the TARDIS pattern, but in red. The Doctor despised it. However, he had been assured that the Master only wanted the journal for keeping a close eye on their interactions with River; not just taunt to him. He wasn't just a troublemaker, he was also jealous.

The Doctor promised them a trip to space in 1969, but somehow it turned out to be a picnic on a beach in 2011. The others were wondering what the Doctor was up to, but the Master really didn't mind. He was more entertained by the Doctor's failed attempt at drinking wine than he was by the idea of humanity's poor attempts at space exploration.

"He is always the one to get drunk first," the Master laughed at him. Despite the company, he was in a good mood. The Doctor was, for once, able to sit down and just talk with them all. It was nice. The Master didn't care for having River around, but the Doctor was particularly attentive to him. He'd insisted on having the Master sitting leaned back against his chest. The Master pretended to be disgruntled, but how could he honestly be?

"Without you, though, the Doctor probably wouldn't need to drink at all," Amy remarked. It was all in good humour.

"Almost two hundred years, though. What were you doing all that time?" the Master asked. He was sagging against the Doctor's chest, making himself comfortable and drinking right from the bottle that the Doctor had given up on.

"You didn't notice me?" the Doctor asked with the sound of a puppy that had just been kicked.

"We saw you," Rory assured. "You've been causing trouble all through history."

"Without me," the Master huffed.

"Now, you always cause enough trouble on your own," the Doctor chided. "And not the fun kind."

A car stopped nearby and caughtthe Doctor's attention. A man stepped out and waved. The Doctor untangled himself from the Master. Slowly he got up and waved back.

"You invited yet another one of your sheep?" the Master asked. They were all getting up, now, and he looked at the Doctor, annoyed that everyone was so bent on ruining everything.

"Don't feel bad," the Doctor said. "You are my favourite sheep," he promised. He was far too serious when he said it, even more so when he kissed the Master as an extra assurance.

"Oh my God."

River had caught sight of something down in the water. They all turned to look. Someone in an astronaut suit was knee-high in water, facing them.

"You all need to stay back," the Doctor said. "Whatever happens, you do not interfere. That goes for you as well, Master."

The Doctor headed towards the astronaut. The Master crossed his arms and grumbled something about the Doctor going off without him again already. The Doctor never told him anything.

Then it happened, what he'd never thought would happen, what he hadn't been capable of himself and what he'd come to dread.

The astronaut shot the Doctor down and then shot him again. They cried out. River and Rory grabbed onto Amy and held her from running towards the Doctor but the Master ran for it and groped for his screwdriver.

The Doctor was staggering back, glowing with regeneration energy already. He held his hand out and yelled for the Master to stay back, that he was sorry.

The astronaut fired again. The Doctor collapsed and the glow of regeneration died away. Now they were all running for the Doctor and the Master was the first to get down at his side.

It had happened. The Doctor was dead. Not a moment passed after this conclusion was reached before River and the Master both were shooting after the astronaut that was vanishing into the water. The Master waded out in the water with an enraged cry, his aim completely off because he was shaking with fury and a lot of other things that he refused to acknowledge.

Between the astronaut vanishing and the next event, there was a sort of vacuum. Amy was on the ground crying and River was choking up. The Master was just numb.

"It's not possible. It can't be him. It must be a clone or a duplicate or something," Amy sobbed.

The Master knew it wasn't; he'd felt the presence of an actual Time Lord. He also knew that this was a fixed point in time, but none of that was of any importance because the Doctor _couldn't_ be dead. Surely all of existence would collapse without the Doctor.

"I'll save you some time by saying that's most definitely him, and he's most definitely dead."

It was the man that the Doctor had been waving at before. He set a can of gasoline down.

"He said you'd be needing this."

The Master was ready to attack the man just for the implication that the Doctor needed a funeral. It was River who stopped him.

"You of all should know." She sniffed, trying to pull herself together. "We can't leave him here. There are people who would rip the world apart to get hold of his body."

Amy was clinging onto the Doctor's body, crying still.

"For once, if the Doctor had any good influence on you at all, do like the rest of the Doctor's friends; as you're told," River said to the Master.

"I am not his friend," the Master spat. He was not one of these brainless admirers and he refused to accept this. He turned right around, stormed off to the nearest rock and sat down with a mind not to move should the Earth so crash into the Sun.

The others were aghast with him. Fighting with their own grief, they turned back to the Doctor's body.

"There's a boat over there," Rory informed, head down. "If we're going to do this, let's do it properly."

They fetched the boat and laid the Doctor's body out, all while the Master watched from where he was sitting. By the time everything was ready, it had gotten dark. He'd had enough time for his mind to become one jumbled mess of doubt, anger and grief, and he could stand it no longer.

The others halted their actions as they saw him striding towards them. He grabbed the can of gasoline from River without looking at her and had one last, bitter look at the Doctor. No one protested as he took over the horrible task of dunking the body in gasoline.

With fury in every action, he emptied the can before he sank to his knees next to the boat and threw the can away with force. His face was buried in his arms. He was no better off than any of them.

Like the Doctor had once burned his body, it was only right that he did it in return. But he shouldn't have had to. Never. There was nothing, now. Ironic, how the Doctor had made him notice the wonders of the universe, yet with him gone there was nothing left in the universe at all.

Amy hugged him. The hug was like a final testament to how bad the situation was.

It took time before the Master managed to get up. They lit the fire together. Rory and the Master pushed the burning boat off from the shore. Soaked, they remained standing on the beach until Rory went off to comfort Amy.

The others were talking to the man. Canton Delaware or something. The Master wasn't listening. His eyes were on the burning boat and his mind was racing. He'd been resurrected, twice. Always he found a way to cheat death and he would think of some way to have the Doctor back.

They returned to the diner. He was too numb to notice them leaving the beach and Rory and River were chattering on about the envelopes. Something caught his attention and tore him out of his trance.

"Hey!" Scowling, he looked at the envelopes marked with the numbers three and two. "How come I am number five?"

He was ignored. They had spotted the final envelope lying on a table and were all rushing to it.

"Number one. Who did the Doctor trust the most?" River asked.

In retrospect, the Master could understand the Doctor not trusting him. Surely they had other, stronger bonds than trust. He could still be first priority. Well, he'd surely _been_ first priority.

Then the Doctor walked in. The eleventh incarnation, with that same horrible jacket and the bowtie, and the Master, River and the Ponds received their worst metaphorical kick in the face as of yet.

"Hold me back. I'm going to kill him," the Master snarled only to be grabbed by River and Rory. Amy went up to the Doctor, shocked.

"You're okay."

"Of course I'm okay. I'm always okay, I'm the King of Okay," he said, hugging her as she did appear a little upset to him. "Wait, that's a terrible title. Scratch that. Rory! Master, look at you, being around others without someone's head getting torn off. I couldn't have been more proud. And River. What sort of trouble have you for me this time?"

The Master would have smacked the Doctor hadn't River gotten there first. The Doctor was surprised.

"I am supposing that's for something I haven't done yet. Ow." He rubbed his cheek. "Looking forward to it."

River was horrified and infuriated, but the Master had a moment to actually think now.

"That bastard is his own most trusted friend," he scowled. "He's younger now. And what is up with you not trusting me?"

River grabbed the Master by his arm and shot him a look. If this indeed was a younger version of the Doctor, they could in no way tell him what had just happened.

"I don't understand what's going on here," Rory muttered.

" _I_ don't. That's not a fanciful change," the Doctor said with a hint of annoyance.

River and the Master exchanged looks.

"We've been recruited," the Master said. "Space something or whatever."

"1969," River supplied. "And someone called Canton Everett Delaware III is involved."

The Doctor looked at them with suspicion.

"Recruited by whom?"

"Spoilers," River told him.

For once, the Master was glad for her annoying tagline.

*

It took some convincing to make the Doctor do as they asked. He didn't seem to trust any of them, but Amy swore on a particularly strange kind of food and that seemed to do the trick. The Master wasn't saying anything. He was too angry. They all were, and the Doctor noticed. He couldn't quite understand it.

"I knew you might not be jumping with joy upon seeing me again, but I had expected _some_ sign of affection," the Doctor said. He was sore about the Master's greeting in the diner. "You haven't told me how you enjoyed your holiday, which I am sure I don't want the details about anyway, but you could at least gloat a little and grab my ass."

The Master didn't say anything. Arms crossed over his chest, he was glaring at the Doctor.

"Look, you could have come with me if you wanted, but you weren't interested in doing house-calls with me, now were you? Besides, you've offended or manhandled most of the people I was visiting and I'm sure you had more than enough fun on your own. Judging by the messages you kept sending me on the psychic paper, your mind wasn't exactly troubled. Actually, scratch that, because being in a gutter sort of is troublesome, isn't it? Though this is figuratively speaking. Now, are you going to tell me what is going on or what?"

The Master was still glaring, but had softened somewhat. This blundering idiot was the same man that had dropped him off a week ago. Knowing the Master would cause a lot of people misery, the Doctor had allowed him freedom. It was also the same man who had less than two hundred years to live and the Master would be there to send him off. As a friend.

"Well?" the Doctor asked. He was annoyed at all this secrecy and at the same time anxious about the Master.

"Well what?" the Master asked. He tilted his chin up and narrowed his eyes. "I'm waiting for you to get undressed so we can greet each other properly. I thought you had learned something by now." He tsk'ed.

The Doctor wasn't convinced. Not entirely, but he smiled and patted the Master's cheek.

"How about after 1969, hm? Don't want to upset River."

"I told you before; Cesar, Caligula, Cleopatra. If she only wasn't such a bitch about it."

Leaving that thought hanging, the Doctor was able to put his life in their hands on this one special occasion and piloted the TARDIS to their next destination. Or rather, he tried to make the TARDIS land silently and invisible, failed horribly, except River ran after him and corrected his mistakes while the Master fought not to laugh.

Landing in Nixon's office, it didn't really help because the Doctor was caught, anyway. With a natural 20 on his bluff check (as usual), he landed himself a job in investigating the inexplicable phone call that plagued the President once a week. He shamelessly popped himself into the President's chair and put his feet on the table as he listed his requirements.

"I'm going to need a SWAT team ready to mobilize. Street maps covering all of Florida, pot of coffee, twelve jammy dodgers and a fez," he happily announced.

His companions, and the other occupants of the office, exchanged looks. The Master saw his chance.

"And I'll be needing a leash, a riding crop and a nice cuppa. A proper one. Not like the crap you make here in the colonies," he said.

It was a miracle that they left the office without the Master getting shot by the President's bodyguards, but they were interrupted by a phone call before he could do any additional damage. The Doctor did, when no one was looking, assure him that all those demands could be met once they were back in the TARDIS.

Amy was being weird through all this and had to have a run into the bathroom, but more importantly, the Doctor hadn't been given a fez. Conditions were poor in the oval office, should anyone ask the Master.

Either way, there was that phone call. The little girl was calling and she was crying for help. The Doctor had already figured out where the call was coming from. They were rushing into the TARDIS shortly, one younger Canton included. The Master stopped him from making any remarks about the TARDIS being bigger on the inside with one threatening look.

They reappeared in the space centre near Cape Canaveral in Florida. It was dark and abandoned; the perfect atmosphere for any sort of investigation. The Doctor was prowling ahead and the Master allowed himself to fall back with River and Amy. Rory was trying to explain the whole thing about the TARDIS to Canton.

"Only way I see we could work around the fixed point in time is getting a Doctor from a different universe and let him die instead," the Master muttered. "Still chances for the universe shattering, but..."

He trailed off as he saw River's glare.

"What? How is that not the most reasonable thing to do?" he hissed under his breath.

"The universe is in danger of ripping apart as it is."

The Master gritted his teeth and glared at the Doctor's back ahead of them.

"There must be a way of fixing this."

"He would have a plan," Amy insisted. "He always does."

The Doctor called out to them. "Hey you lot! Pay attention when I am making brilliant discoveries."

He had found the space suit and was making a great effort at trying it on. River, on the other hand, caught sight of a manhole that led down to a series of tunnels underground. It contained Silence. Not that they remembered, but it did.

The Master was so preoccupied with thinking of ways to prevent something he couldn't prevent that he wasn't even bothered by the Doctor's flirting with River. She seemed too preoccupied herself to return much of it anyway. Probably bothered by his death still, and she was giving him a cold front. It was painful for all of them.

Amy was worse off than anyone, feeling sick all the time. Her and the Doctor were alone when she dropped the bomb that she was pregnant, just in time before the astronaut showed up. The little girl in the space suit that Amy almost shot.

*

The Silence already controlled America. This became troublesome, particularly after Amy and Rory were killed and River leapt off the fiftieth floor of a building as they tried to escape the authorities. Good thing it had all been planned well. Canton dragged Amy and Rory into the prison cell that had only served to keep the Doctor from a good shave.

Escaping with the TARDIS, he snatched River in mid-fall and then hoped to get the Master before any of the federal agents pursuing him were killed. They picked him up in the desert, and by then he was already peeved. His coat and jacket had been abandoned and his sleeves were rolled up. Arms and face were full of pen marks, and none of the others looked any better.

"Why am I running," he growled after the doors to the TARDIS had been closed behind him. " _Why_ am I bloody running when I could be ruling the planet instead of the Silence."

Then he noticed the Doctor. Really looked at him. Three months was a long time and the first thing that the Master did upon seeing him again was to let out a horrified scream.

"What is that on your _face_?"

"Oh, this thing here?" the Doctor asked with an uncertain smile through his bushy beard. "Just a product of being kept prisoner, you know. I've been told I pull it off."

"It's horrifying," the Master said, but was intrigued as he gave it an experimental stroke.

The Doctor sent Canton, the Ponds and River a look that read something along the lines of "bitches love them beards". Then he was dragged off to the bathroom for what was hopefully more than just a shave.

Afterwards, the Doctor had them all implanted with a recording device. Once he was able to make the Master stop recording himself singing the Scissor Sisters' _I can't decide_ , he explained that this would be their way of remembering and fighting back against the Silence. Then they were off to the Apollo 11 launch, after Amy had assured the Doctor that she wasn't pregnant after all.

Amy was, however, kidnapped. She and Canton had been checking out an orphanage in hopes of finding something about the girl in the space suit, and she was kidnapped while the Doctor and the Master were sitting around in handcuffs after tampering with the Apollo 11. The Master was whispering some very colourful suggestions into the Doctor's ear while President Nixon arrived with River and Rory all dressed up and pretending to work for him.

"Sexy glasses," the Master commented at Rory while their handcuffs were undone.

Canton was the only one left when they got to the orphanage. Canton and the recording device that somehow allowed Amy's voice to come through. Her kidnapping was nothing they couldn't fix, though it enraged the Doctor and Rory beyond what the Master said was reasonable. He had to snicker when Amy called for the Doctor's help and not Rory's.

Other than that, they found the space suit. The girl had been there and she had forced her way out. Another finding was a harmed Silence who frowned at Canton's attempt at helping it.

"You should kill us on sight," it told them. The Master felt inclined to agree. Canton had a recording of it, so they had what they needed and the Doctor was busy tampering with the space suit. That particular Silence wouldn't bother them again.

The girl from the space suit was missing, but they could now pop in and save Amy, never mind destroy the Silence. With Canton's recording and the Doctor and the Master's tampering with the Apollo 11, the broadcast of the moon landing was now featuring the Silence's order to kill them all on sight.

When they were all back in the TARDIS, safe and sound, the Master grabbed the Doctor's now clean-shaven face and kissed him.

"You have no idea how proud I am of you right now," he purred.

The Doctor wasn't sure if he should be feeling good about another genocide, but the kiss had him smiling anyway. In the background, Amy and Rory were having a moment as well now that they were reunited.

River was silent through all this. She requested to be sent back to the prison and insisted only the Doctor came with her. The Master wasn't liking this one bit, but River had proven herself more likeable this time around. He let the two be off on their own and waited with Amy and Rory.

Alone at the door to River's prison cell, River tried to explain without really explaining anything that this was where she had to be.

"You'll understand soon enough."

"Alright then," the Doctor said. "Suit yourself, but I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again sometime very soon, am I right?" He had such a bright look on his face. It broke River's heart, because she knew what the Doctor would be doing next.

"Just one thing before you go," she said.

"And what would that be?" the Doctor asked with a smirk, having no idea as usual. Not until River kissed him. In his surprise, he mostly just flailed. There was a little too much feeling in that kiss. Perhaps a little too much River as well, but he wasn't sure yet.

River let go of him and drew a deep breath. She had a hard time looking at him.

"You should go back to the TARDIS. And look after yourself."

The Doctor stroked a hand over his mouth as he backed off, still very confused by the entire thing.

"Oh. Yes, you know me, always keeping safe and being okay and all that. Yes, well I'll be seeing you and so on."

"You know what I mean. Don't let him be... _him_ to you."

"Right. Noted. Well. Bye, then," the Doctor said with an awkward wave before he slipped into the TARDIS.

River watched him go. That had probably done more damage than good, but she couldn't blame herself. Not when it was the last time.

*

"I told you time and again that the warning lights are flashing for a _reason_ ," the Master said, grabbing the Doctor's hands so he would stop hitting the TARDIS. They were bickering about piloting once again and while the Doctor tried to push the Master away, the Master was trying to stabilize the ship.

"Honestly I don't know why she prefers you," the Master hissed, pulling some levers and twisting some knobs that turned off at least some of the lights.

"She and I go way back _and_ you did unspeakable things to her." The Doctor threw an angry look at the red journal that had been abandoned on the dashboard.

Amy and Rory were watching this spectacle with their usual interest when there was a knocking at the TARDIS' door. Everyone went quiet.

"But we are in deep space," Rory protested. "How can someone be knocking?"

"Thank you for that wonderful piece of insight, Rory," the Master praised. "But obviously someone are."

"He has a point," the Doctor said as he crept towards the door with uncertainty. "We _are_ in very deep space."

He opened the doors with what had to be excitement, because this was new and intriguing and just a little scary. The only thing outside was a glowing cube.

"Oh yes. Come here you scrumptious little beauty," the Doctor said, delighted and reaching out for the cube.

"He never calls me that," the Master muttered to Amy. "Never. Not like I want him to, but he should. Shouldn't he? When he goes around calling everyone and their mums that way."

Amy wondered whether she ought to reply and just gave him a weird look before the box flew into the TARDIS, took a sweep around the control room before it bumped into the Doctor's hands and almost knocked him over.

"I've got mail!" he exclaimed and looked at the Master with all the glee of a child.

Upon seeing what it was, the Master's jaw dropped.

"Time Lord emergency messaging system."

"Which means?" Amy asked.

"In an emergency we can wrap up our thoughts in psychic containers and send them through Time and Space. Anyway, there's a living Time Lord out there, and it's one of the _good_ ones."

"Hey!" the Master called at the Doctor, who had run for the controls. " _That_ is discrimination."

"No, this is the mark of the Corsair, see, right there, remember him and sometimes her?" the Doctor asked, shoving the box up under the Master's nose before he ran back to the controls to get them moving.

"But there aren't any Time Lords left in the universe?"

"There are places outside the universe, you know," the Master said and rolled his eyes at the ignorance of human beings. "Your monkeys really don't know a thing, do they?"

"Oi, don't think the 'monkey' comment holds any weight any more when you go around worrying about us all the time," Amy told him off.

What would predictably have been a biting reply from the Master was lost as the TARDIS shook and trembled worse than ever (if possible).

"How can we go outside the universe?" Amy called out over the noise.

"With great difficulty! Burning up loads of TARDIS fumes right now. Goodbye swimming pool, goodbye scullery—"

"Not the swimming pool," the Master yelled. "My battleships are in there!"

"Ha, too late!"

And like that the TARDIS was zooming towards a small, grey and glowing planet existing in a place where none of them had ever been. The Doctor was almost too excited to breathe. Even the Master had to admit that this was a little thrilling.

They were just regaining their breaths when the TARDIS shut down. They were in the dark but for the blue lights coming up from the floor. The nonplussed Doctor pulled some levers in hopes of any sign of life.

"What did you do?" the Master asked with a hand to his forehead.

"Nothing is wrong," the Doctor assured. "I don't understand. This is impossible. The TARDIS' soul just vanished."

"Its soul vanished?" the Master asked with considerable amounts of doubt.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Rory said, then quickly looked away as the Master glared at him.

The Doctor was making his way outside and the others followed. They emerged in what could only be described as a scrapheap.

"I don't know about you lot, but I am having a sort of déjà vu," the Doctor remarked and tried to think about the last time he parked in a junk yard. He stopped thinking about it as soon as he started remembering Susan.

"My thief! That's my thief!" someone called out. A woman was running right at the Doctor, hair wild and expression full of urgency. "Look at you, goodbye. No, that will be wrong." She cut herself short by grabbing the Doctor and kissing him hard. The Master's jaw dropped for the second time that day and he reached for his screwdriver.

The woman was pulled away by a couple of other humans just in time for the Doctor to smooth his hair back and grab the Master.

"Welcome strangers, lovely, ahah. Sorry about mad person." There was a shady man in weird clothes. He was accompanied by an equally filthy and unpleasant woman.

"Why am I a thief, what have I stolen?" the Doctor demanded. He had to wonder why he was being kissed by anyone _but_ the Master lately. This was getting ridiculous.

"Me, you've stolen me no you _are_ stealing me you will steal me, oh tenses are difficult, aren't they?"

She appeared to have enough energy for an entire battalion stored in her and was running about before the Doctor could reply.

"I'm sorry, she's off her head," the older woman said.

"So you have been, or are going to be, picking up mad women in a place you have never been before," the Master recounted. "Why am I not surprised by this?"

"You make me out to be such a womanizer," the Doctor complained. He didn't have an argument against it so he turned to the couple in front of them.

"And you are?"

"You can call me Auntie," the woman said.

"And I'm Uncle. I'm everybody's uncle," the man said. He had a weird accent and they were both talking with a slight difficulty. He patted the Doctor's cheek and was generally creepy about it. "Keep back from this one. She bites," he warned, implying the mad person.

"Do I? Excellent," she said and grabbed the Doctor again and bit his neck. The Doctor cried out and so did Amy and Rory in surprise. They were able to push her off again, though, and she just went off to ramble about how biting was much like kissing.

"Idris's doolally," Uncle tried to excuse them.

"I'm not doolally, I'mmm... I'mmm... It's on the tip of my tongue. Oh! I just had a new idea about kissing."

The Master was growing more displeased by the second as she chased the Doctor around.

"Somehow they are always chasing him. Womanizers are usually the other way around."

Auntie and Uncle were able to stop her eventually, and Amy and Rory were mostly just disturbed by all this.

The Master looked at the Doctor with displeasure.

"You're jealous," the Doctor commented. "I can tell by the frowny thing you've got going on, but it's not like that. Very nice of you to be jealous of course, and tolerant, yes, but you know there's really one person I—"

The Master resolutely pulled the Doctor down and bit him on the other side of his neck.

" _Ow_!"

Amy and Rory yelped.

"Now we are even," the Master said, licking his lips. Then Idris pulled his hair. Cursing, he shoved at her. "What the Hell?"

"You are in my, what's the word, ceiling. Was. Will be. You are in the way of kissing. You're kissing. Biting. On him. Stop it. If you're doing it already and if not then don't do it you're not allowed to."

"Seems like the Master's gotten places, too," Amy said with scorn.

"Who _is_ she?" the Master sneered at the Doctor.

This was when Idris switched off and fell over.

"So sad," Uncle said with all the conviction of a teaspoon. "She's dead now."

"She's not dead," Rory assured after looking her over. Uncle looked displeased and called for Nephew to help get Idris to someplace safe. The Doctor had a minor fangirling moment as they were introduced to the green-eyed Ood. Then he fixed the Ood's translation device, and suddenly none were too happy.

Voices rang out, calling for help. Hundreds, more than they could count. The Master and the Doctor exchanged looks of horror. Time Lords.

As it turned out, Auntie, Uncle, Nephew and Idris were all who lived on House. The planet, that was. The planet was House, and House was a living thing. He invited them to stay and while the Doctor didn't trust anyone of them in the least, he took House up on the offer. They went off to explore, cautiously.

"If there _are_ other Time Lords here, aren't you worried?" the Master muttered to the Doctor.

"Why should I be when the worst one of them is right here at my side?" the Doctor asked with a grin. "With Rasillon trapped in the Time War, I mean."

"Very funny. You know what you did. What are they going to think of you?" Not to mention what would happen to them both if there were Time Lords in Rasillon's league left.

"Well, I had to. There wasn't a choice. They wanted to destroy reality itself and the Daleks weren't much better. I did what had to be done, don't you see?"

The Master narrowed his eyes. "You want to be forgiven."

The Doctor didn't quite look at him. "Don't everyone?" He was careful at glancing back at the Master. "You understand that there was no other choice. Someone had to make it."

"You haven't asked me what I think about this before and I am sure there's a very good reason for that you haven't," the Master replied. The Doctor's eyes darkened. "You have guessed what I think."

"I still don't know whether you enjoy the idea of massive genocide over the possibility of going home."

"Nor would it mean squat if I was the one to forgive you."

The Doctor cleared his throat and looked back at Amy and Rory. "Would you two do me a favour? I forgot my screwdriver in the TARDIS. It's in my jacket. The other jacket."

Amy and Rory were uncomfortable as it was and didn't protest. Amy warned him against getting emotional and left her mobile with him before they left. The Doctor and the Master were alone in the scrapheap that was House.

"Perhaps we should leave it at that?" the Master suggested.

"I think we would both be a lot better off if you could see it my way for once. Anyway, you don't want to go home, you just want to rule Gallifrey."

The Master was surprised by the Doctor's sharpness. "So I may enjoy genocide, particularly when it's goodie-two-shoes like you who do it, and I might want to rule it but Gallifrey is my home. There are things _you_ can't forgive and there's things _I_ can't forgive."

"Look, now. You do cruel things out of spite. I am only cruel when I have to. You are evil and I am at least better, if not good. I do what I believe to be the right things and you do the wrong things and don't believe in anything. What right do you have to hold a grudge? You would have loved to be the one to make that choice, but you didn't and you wouldn't have because you never _could_ make the right choice."

"There still exists a Gallifrey out there," the Master reminded him. He looked at the Doctor. "We can go back. Close the rift behind us. There will be an entire universe of new things to see." And perhaps he didn't care if he destroyed this universe, so long as the Doctor lived. They could create a new future in a new reality. The fixed point in time could implode the old universe and the Doctor's death would never have to happen.

"We can't. You know we can't, why would you even say that? You don't even want to stay on Gallifrey and live a normal life. You would want to conquer it, or go out in Space and Time to find something else conquerable." The Doctor was getting thoroughly mad and the Master was only thinking of the Doctor dying, of the envelope with the number five and of River Song.

"Would we even be together if there are other Time Lords still alive?" he asked.

"Obviously we won't know that because of me, now will we," the Doctor gritted out. "Hadn't they put that noise in your head, maybe everything would be just peachy. That was my fault as well, I presume."

Ah, the noise. When the noise disappeared, everything had felt so empty. It had been the same feeling when the Doctor died, if not worse. It stung to be number five, but he wasn't sure if it honestly mattered.

"You know, I need you a lot more than you need me," he said.

"What?"

"And you should hurry up and lock the TARDIS before the Ponds find out that you tricked them."

"Oh, yes." The Doctor whipped out the screwdriver and used it to lock the TARDIS. He wanted to ask the Master what this was all about, but the Master had already wandered ahead. "Hey! Wait up, you."

The Master could sense it. So could the Doctor. Past another number of scrap heaps and behind some flimsy patchwork curtains was a small, dark room. It all seemed to be coming from there, but the Time Lords couldn't possibly all be packed inside that tiny little space. They were forced to look at each other again.

"I thought we had resolved us," the Doctor murmured after a while of silence.

"Don't pretend like we will ever be resolved," the Master replied with a snort. "We have too much history to ever be resolved."

"Yes, but everything was fine up until we went to Utah. Now everyone is being really weird. You, River and Amy, you are all acting weird, and not the good sort of weird."

"River?" the Master asked, teeth gritted. "What did she do that was so weird? Amy is having cramps, I am back to my usual self and what did River do? I am not stupid, Doctor."

The Doctor was flustered, and he was rarely flustered. The Master narrowed his eyes.

"Is she in love with you?"

"Possibly."

"You whore."

"Now, no need to be rude."

"I mean it," the Master assured. "You, sir, are a whore."

The Doctor blinked owlishly at him. He'd never get used to being insulted by people he cared about.

"I can't help it if women like me. Or that you're being bitchy all this time and no fun at all."

"Doctor, I want us to go to Gallifrey, just you and I," the Master insisted. Even if it didn't actually change anything, at least he could have the Doctor to himself before Time unfolded upon itself crashed down.

"No. We are not going to Gallifrey and we are not leaving the Ponds behind on your whim." The Doctor turned away, in the process catching sight of a cupboard. This couldn't be possible, and yet...

"Because your whim is so much more important," the Master snarled. "I have a mile long list of things I'd find more entertaining than _seeing_ the stars, do you understand? This is all for you and you couldn't care less. You expect I'll hang around all eternity because I've no other option."

"Don't argue with your designated driver if you've already pissed off the locals," the Doctor warned him. "You might have to spend a lot more time with them, because without me you aren't going anywhere."

It was this whole touchy subject of Gallifrey. While as Eleven was the best at living in the moment, he was also damned good at holding grudges when he really wanted to. The Master was boiling over.

The Doctor had opened the cupboard. It silenced them both for a moment, seeing all the glowing boxes stacked up on shelves. The disappointment and hurt was obvious all over the Doctor. The Master wasn't surprised in the least.

"See, no one can run forever," the Master hissed into the Doctor's ear. "You have to stop one day, and it can either be with me or you can end up like this." He needed the Doctor to listen and to live.

"You should go now."

The Master didn't hesitate. He left the Doctor to stare at the boxes, making his way through the heaps of junk on his own. It was best like this. The Doctor had been given hope and now it had been taken away. He was dangerous now. Even the Master had a mind not to stay around after angering him and besides, he had a lot to come to terms with. If he couldn't find a solution to the Doctor's death soon, the tension was going to tear them apart.

*

House stole the TARDIS. As it also turned out, Idris was the TARDIS. The TARDIS matrix was in her, and she alerted the Doctor to the fact that Amy and Rory were now in very grave danger; they all were.

While as the Master understood that this planet fed on Time Lords, he also didn't give a flying fuck. He was angry at the Doctor for being stubborn and inattentive and he had a mind to do something genius and stupid. He had noticed something the Doctor soon would notice himself. The junk that covered the planet was bits of TARDISes. If he couldn't build something functional out of this, no one could except for perhaps the Doctor.

At this point, they were basically working on either side of the same tower of scrap, putting together each their own TARDIS console. The Master was nearly done by the time the Doctor spotted him. He skidded down the hill of scrap and called out.

"Hey! What, tell me _what_ are you doing?"

The Master looked up, mouth full of wires and screwdriver in one hand. "What does it look like?" he asked after removing the wires.

"Don't be stupid. You can't build a TARDIS. Why would you even need to?"

"And what were _you_ doing?" the Master asked dryly. "Yours is gone, if you haven't noticed. I expect you to be all over the task of rescuing Ponds."

"But I have a TARDIS matrix and you don't," the Doctor said, pulling Idris close by her hand. "And you didn't answer me on why you need one."

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

"He's gone. He will be. Is. Left in the TARDIS when no Doctor is there anymore."

"Thank you, Idris, that's quite enough. Master, about before, that wasn't nice of either of us but this is important. Let's not allow petty arguing be the death of us."

"You call me sexy," Idris insisted.

"Lovely," the Master muttered. "Your one true love has a body. I'd suggest a threesome, but currently I'm working on my getaway van."

"You don't honestly mean that," the Doctor said with a nervous smile. "It's not like you could make it work and besides, you wouldn't want to leave, not really."

"My Doctor," Idris said. "He takes my Doctor away. _My_ Doctor. He will take him away."

That was the final drop. Time and Space be damned.

"He is _my_ Doctor, do you understand?" the Master yelled at her. "River, you and anyone else can just _try_ and take him away. I always come back. No one has known him longer than I have."

"Actually, she has," the Doctor said, but his voice was drowned out by the yelling.

" _I_ stole him, my Doctor. My thief. Never went anywhere without me. Never goes, I am always there, protects him. The red book ruined everything for the Master. Master of nothing, definitely not over his own decisions."

The Doctor put his fingers in his ears as the two had a row at each other. It all turned into incomprehensible yelling. Without actually hearing the Master's nonsensical, angry rambling, it was possible for the Doctor to see something other than anger on his face. The Master looked devastated. The Doctor was surprised.

"Both of you, stop, right now," he demanded to little effect. "Now, really, you both knew me for a long while and you both bit me, but it's obvious who is the most indispensable."

"Bastard," the Master scowled.

"A mad man with a box without a box is just a mad man, and that's no use to anyone." The Doctor put a reassuring hand on the Master's shoulder. "You really want to go?"

"Of course not. The more time I spend with you, the less I like you but the more I need you," the Master snapped. "I can't..."

"He was crying," Idris said. "Is crying. Will be. Funny leaky eyes. Do all flesh bodies do that?"

"Shut up," the Master groaned. The Doctor's arms wrapped around him.

"What happened?" the Doctor murmured. "What am I going to do to you?"

"You're an idiot if you haven't figured it already," the Master asked. He was choked up, proving Idris right. He clung onto the Doctor, unable to cope with all of this. "I don't want it to happen."

The Doctor could only guess as of yet, but whatever was going to happen had to be bad. He patted the Master's back with an apologetic look at Idris.

"You didn't do anything wrong," the Master mumbled into the Doctor's chest. "You didn't, you were perfect all the way, you did the right thing, I'm sure."

"He's gone completely bonkers," the Doctor whispered to Idris, who nodded sagely. "Now. Master, if you will be alright, then we have to save some Ponds."

"Off we go, then," the Master muttered.

Together they were able to finish a TARDIS console that was stabile enough for use. With Idris there, they made it work beyond all expectations. House stood little chance as they materialized inside. Idris would no doubt push him out as soon as she returned inside the TARDIS. There was just that. The Doctor had a hard time saying goodbye to her, but she was dying and leaving them little choice. There was a rather touching moment between the two as they said goodbye, or rather, hello. After nine centuries of travel together they were greeting each other.

Amy, Rory and the Master were quiet as they watched them both tear up. Then the TARDIS matrix returned and Idris was again quiet. The Doctor sniffed and turned his back on them. There was a lot of work to be done and the Doctor was irritable. The Master had a mind to let Amy and Rory bug him first and get snapped at before the Doctor recreated their room and sent them off.

Now it was just the Doctor, hanging under the TARDIS console and fixing the poor girl up while the Master watched.

"I just wanted to show you that I can leave if I so decide to," he said after a long while of silence.

"Yes. Great. Well, it wouldn't have worked without Idris anyway, so all glory to that wonderful plan of yours," the Doctor told him without looking away from what he was doing. This whole ordeal had left him bitter.

The Master made a face, but he managed to swallow any snide remarks. _He_ knew he could escape the Doctor if he just wanted it enough.

"I don't care," he began, but then changed his mind and corrected himself. "I don't _mind_ if she's what you care the most about. We both have lives of our own, but they aren't going to last forever. I've been dead twice before, I know."

The Doctor frowned and kept working. He was quiet for some time before he could no longer stop himself. "Why is it that every time we get along, something happens to remind me of just how horrible you are?"

"Replay value?" the Master suggested. Finally the Doctor looked at him.

"No, although yes, but not really because it's getting really tiresome. And now, for some reason, you're convinced that my life is in danger and you're being all upset-ish and angry about it."

"So we are both feeling like crap right now. Let's forget the argument and just make the most of it," the Master said in a hopeful attempt at keeping the Doctor from digging, as well as from fawning over the TARDIS all night.

"Go to bed. I'll be with you when I'm done here."

Of course he would. The Master shook his head and left. There was nothing he could do but try and make the most of it, and that just sounded tragic.

*

After the shameful event on House, the Master was able to pull himself somewhat together. Given time, the Doctor was able to calm down as well. They had come to a sort of temporary truce, as they were both tired of the fighting and in need of comfort. The Doctor was currently lying naked on his stomach with a book while the Master scribbled recreational math problems on him. The Doctor hadn't been paying attention, and then suddenly he found himself being used as a notebook. He didn't mind, except when it tickled.

It was best when neither of them were saying anything. Over the past few days they had been able to relax and forget, because for once they weren't in mortal peril. Old, painful scars weren't being metaphorically ripped open by straining events and they had their hands full. There was no time to bicker at each other when they had to look after a child, and they were certainly too tired to give each other any flak in the evenings.

To sum the situation up, the Doctor and the Master were playing nannies for Kazran Sardick, a boy who, once grown up to a bitter old man, would decide the fate of a space liner carrying over four thousand passengers. They would all die if he didn't allow them to land and the Doctor had insisted on interfering. The weather was the problem, but it was controlled by a machine that had isomorphic controls.

"Bah! Humbug. There's no such thing as isomorphic controls," the Doctor had said, to which the Master had replied with amusement.

"Really? _Really_? Do we have to go through this again?"

Nevertheless there was no way for them to bypass the isomorphic controls. The Master suggested they just went on their merry way, but in the end they followed the Doctor's plan, as per usual. Now they returned to Kazran every Christmas, because the Doctor was sappy like that and believed that people could change.

Had it been up to the Doctor, they would have been running from one Christmas Eve to the other without stopping, but the Master insisted they took a break and lounged around in the TARDIS in the evenings. Not just because he wanted to screw the Doctor while he had the chance, but it was good to be alone just the two of them. Amy and Rory were waiting for them in the future.

While the Ponds had wanted to come along, the Master had urged them to just spend a nice Christmas Day in town and the Doctor had surprisingly agreed. He had left them with a whole lot of cash and plenty of promises that they would be fine on their own.

"We can't lie around much longer," the Doctor murmured into the pillow. He had given up on the book. Now he was concentrating on the Master's pen scribbling equations down his spine. Fingers brushed over his skin with no dirtier intentions than to hold him still. It made him oddly warm inside.

"Will you shut up while we're having a moment?" the Master replied. He was no more clothed than the Doctor. Lying half on top of him, the Master was too comfortable to be bothered. "Besides, I am not done."

"The answer to that one's obvious, though. If you take the square root of x, then you're done. Babies could solve it faster than you. When was the last time you did this?" Facing the other way wasn't a problem; the feel of the pen against his skin was all he needed to know what the Master was scribbling.

"I was savouring it," the Master hissed. "I can beat you at this any day."

"Oh yes?" There was a gleam in the Doctor's eyes as he looked back at the Master. "No peeking, no cheating and absolutely no telepathy. Those are the rules."

As much as they argued, they had fun together. There was that much to be said about them. They fell into a heated competition that left them both covered in scribbles and the sheets full of ink smudges. The Master of course cheated by somehow turning the whole competition into really weird sex. One moment the Doctor was concentrating on math problems being scribbled on his inner thigh, the next he had the Master's head between his legs.

When they emerged from the bathroom a couple of hours later, the Doctor still had smears of combinatorics on his forehead. The Master stopped him and wiped them away with his thumb.

"Can't have Kazran see that. He will insist on doing face painting. I hate that."

"You say that, but I get the feeling you are fussing over me," the Doctor cooed.

"Don't be an idiot," the Master warned him while he straightened the Doctor's bowtie. The Doctor glanced at him in that knowing way of his, but the Master ignored it. The Doctor saw right through him, he was aware. That was the entire point. He could be as mean as he wanted so long as the Doctor knew he wasn't serious about it.

"You will have to stop pretending, some day."

The Master froze, hands and gaze on the bowtie. He hadn't planned on stopping anytime soon, but the Doctor wasn't going to live for much longer. Two centuries wasn't a shoddy amount of time, but nothing ensured him that they would be spending those two centuries together.

He didn't say anything, but he sent the Doctor one of those _looks_. The Doctor didn't need him to spell it out.

They were off on new adventures with Kazran and that chick he fancied. Abigail or something. The Doctor didn't need the Master's help with the child, not really. Except for perhaps when that shark crashed into Kazran's bedroom and ate half of the sonic screwdriver.

"I told you, you would be better off with laser anyway. This is your chance to upgrade," the Master had encouraged him to poor results.

They watched Kazran grow up. The Doctor made a wonderful nanny, while the Master considered himself more of a creepy uncle at best. Going from one Christmas Eve to the next was driving him insane, but at least when Kazran grew older he could teach him some moves.

"Ooh, where ever did you learn to kiss like that?" Abigail asked Kazran after their first kiss outside the cryostorage.

The Master straightened his tie smugly where he was watching from a distance. The Doctor shook his head and tried not to be embarrassed by the young couple.

Of course, it wouldn't be going smoothly forever.

"I think I accidentally got myself engaged to Marilyn Monroe."

"You _what_?"

"Please don't hit," the Doctor pleaded. "You know this always happens to me. It would be far from the first time."

The Master narrowed his eyes. "It's not like I _care_ or anything."

"If it's any consolation, I'm always late for the weddings anyway. Only go to them for the dancing, even my own ones."

"Yes, yes the bride always is late," the Master said, nose upturned.

"You would know," was the Doctor's bristling reply.

The Master glared at him, but then got a better idea, fun as it was to rain fury down on the Doctor. "What would she say about an open marriage and a threesome?"

He never got a reply. Kazran and Abigail appeared to be having an argument. Afterwards Kazran stormed over to them, apparently with no interest of continuing their Christmas tradition.

"Told you this would happen."

"Did you put him up to this?" the Doctor accused.

"Did not," the Master scoffed.

"Did too."

"Did not times infinity," the Master said and pulled a face.

The Doctor scowled at him before he turned around and called out. "Marilyn, get your coat."

Abigail was dying. She only had one day left, and Kazran would rather keep her locked up than let her die. The Doctor hadn't so much improved upon Kazran's personality as he had given him a whole lot of heartache.

It was time to return to the days of the crashing space liner and call in their special ops; the Ponds. Miraculously they were able to save the day with a clever plot in the old Christmas Carol fashion where Kazran had to face himself as a child and become a better person. After that, the Master swore he never wanted to experience another Christmas ever again. It was good to be back in the TARDIS, Ponds included.

*

They kept travelling Space and Time together; the Doctor, the Master and the Ponds. It had been interesting times, particularly when they ended up on a pirate ship and the Master forced the Doctor into a timely outfit. Much fun was had when they returned to the TARDIS that night. They also found yet another alternate universe, possibly the scariest one yet. They had discovered their alternate selves to be actors in a popular TV show that had been running since the 60s.

As they had stranded there for a while, the Doctor and the Ponds wandered about and enjoyed the fame while the Master went souvenir shopping. When they returned to their own universe, he had a neat collection of action figures and a miniature TARDIS. Of course, he had gotten the Tenth Doctor figurine simply to annoy the current Doctor. He was having too much fun playing with them.

"It's so if you have a headache I have a backup plan," the Master explained when the Doctor confronted him about this.

The Doctor wasn't a lot happier when he found that the Master had gotten a model of his screwdriver as well, and was swapping them around whenever the possibility arose. He'd very nearly reached his limits when he woke up to discover the severed head of a Rose figurine on the pillow next to him. They never found the body.

The Master had always had this thing about dolls. The Doctor wondered if it was some sort of fetish, but at least it wasn't killing anyone this time. A far greater injustice was still to come.

They had been through much trouble the last few days and the Mater was pleased with getting a bit of action. He was currently writing in his journal, sitting in a chair with his feet up on the TARDIS dashboard.

_Today I killed and seriously injured a satisfying amount of people. It seems that firing into crowds drastically increases my hit-ratio._

Before he could write anything else, his shoulders were grabbed and he was swivelled around to face a livid Doctor.

"The TARDIS. What have you _done_ to her?"

The Master almost toppled over, chair and all, but caught himself with a hand against the dashboard. "What?" he asked. "You need to be a little more specific."

"It's _changed_ ," the Doctor yelled with some rabid gestures towards the door. "We landed and now it's changed!"

"Oh. Is that all." The Master looked back into his journal, making sure the Doctor couldn't sneak a peek at what he was writing. "I fixed your chameleon circuit. Don't thank me, a task like that doesn't require effort once you actually get to it." He sent the Doctor a meaningful look.

"You fixed the chameleon circuit. You _fixed_ the chameleon circuit?"

The Ponds were popping their heads in to see what was happening. The Doctor looked about to blow a fuse. The Master readied himself for a hail of anger, but it never came. In one abrupt second, the Doctor appeared to change his mind and went for the controls. He was pulling levers and twisting knobs with fury.

"Where are we going?" Amy asked and looked at the Master, not void of accusation. The Master shrugged. The TARDIS shook, and for a moment they all fought to stay balanced before they landed again.

"All of you, stay inside and _keep an eye on that man_ ," the Doctor ordered. He went for the doors. There was a junkyard outside. It was definitely earth. England, the Master supposed. The Doctor had a quick look around at the outside of the TARDIS, then returned inside and grabbed a hammer from under the dashboard.

"What are you—?"

With a shattering noise, the Doctor introduced the hammer to the chameleon circuit.

"Oh, look. There it goes again," the Doctor said without the slightest attempt at acting innocent. "I have no idea how that could have happened but it seems it's stuck looking like a police box once more. You are not very good at this, are you?"

The Master's expression had fallen into a displeased frown. "And you are going to have it fixed this time, are you?"

"Oh yes. When I get around to it," the Doctor assured.

"Doctor?" Amy called out. She and Rory were at the door, looking out. "Is that another police box in the junkyard?" she asked.

"Close the door, Amy. We really can't stay around," the Doctor said, making for the doors, but the Master got ahead of him. One arm around each of the Pond's shoulders, he grinned and stared out of the TARDIS.

"Oh, yes. _So_ smart, bringing us here. See that old man hobbling along outside? That is, indeed, your dear Doctor during his younger days. Know what made him regenerate? Old age. Very classy. Of course, I didn't know him yet, and just as well. I would have given that geezer a heart attack if I—"

The TARDIS shook and threw them back and down on the floor. The Doctor was annoyed and they were once again on the move before they caused any major holes in Space and Time by hanging around. When they were once again afloat in deep space, the Doctor turned to the Master with an expression that made the Ponds scoot off.

"I was doing you a favour," the Master said and folded his arms over his chest.

"Now, we both know that's not true."

"Fine," the Master said, throwing his arms in the air. "I am bored. The next place we land had better be exciting," he growled. "You know one of my TARDISes was an _iron maiden_ once, and I still wouldn't ever have destroyed the chameleon circuit on purpose."

"Because you're not cool. Working chameleon circuits are not cool," the Doctor explained smugly. "I like her as she is and you have been getting on my nerves ever since that day at the beach. Care to explain yet?"

The reminder came out of nowhere. It hit the Master like a particularly nasty sledgehammer and it was quite apparent to the Doctor how his expression changed. Of course the Doctor knew that something was going on behind his back, he just didn't know how terrible it was.

"Master?"

"You know how much I like it when you use my name," the Master murmured, trying to turn his surprise into seduction instead and get the Doctor over onto other thoughts. He pressed his hands to the Doctor's chest and made to back him against the nearest surface or furniture.

"No, really. What are you all keeping from me?" the Doctor asked, so suspicious and untrusting. The Master was reminded of the fact that he had only been number five. This idiot didn't trust anyone but himself, but the Doctor was _his_ idiot.

"If you _had_ to die, as in no choice, no backsies, not even any timey wimey stuff possibly capable of saving you...?"

The Doctor sighed. "Yes, I would let you be the one to murder me if I had to, but that's not going to happen." He kissed the top of the Master's head. Oh, how this man needed his ego stroked all the time. "Stop being silly and weird."

"Shut up and hug me."

The Doctor did as he was asked, putting his arms around the Master and resting his chin on top of his head.

"Why don't you talk to me?" he murmured.

"You couldn't just hold me for two centuries, could you?"

"The Ponds would get restless I think."

"I thought as much." The Master let out a tired breath and pressed his face against the Doctor's chest. He remembered something the Doctor had told him when he was about to fly the Pandorica into the exploding TARDIS, that he had to stay behind and be the Last of the Time Lords. In his current predicament, it seemed preferable to have the Doctor erased from Time rather than just dead. "You know, we should go back in time and get our younger selves to hook up. It would probably unravel all of existence, but it would be fun."

He smirked up at the Doctor, who replied with an amused _no_.

"How about we go somewhere, then. Just you and I," the Master suggested. Possibly back to Gallifrey one last time.

"It's been a while since we were on our own, that's true. In fact, I would love to," the Doctor decided. "As soon as we've had this one stop," he added and let go of the Master to rush over to the dashboard. "I have the perfect destination in mind, the Ponds are going to love it," he shouted back at the Master, already getting himself tangled up in the TARDIS controls.

The Master watched, all too aware that he had lost himself to this other Time Lord. He hated it, even if it was his salvation.

*

The TARDIS had been hit by a solar storm and kidnapped to Earth in the 22nd century. Things like that happened all the time so they weren't too worried. Mostly because they had bigger things to worry about, like the TARDIS sinking into a pool of acid and a band of Flesh doppelgangers trying to murder them. Apparently they hadn't been so keen on following the Master in a conquest across Earth. They thought they could do better on their own and the Master was now doing his best to shoot any of the Gangers down with his laser screwdriver.

He stopped in the doorway to the chapel and made an effort to shoot their pursuers down. The Doctor had to drag him inside by his collar so they could close and bar the door. They barricaded themselves inside with the surviving crew of the acid plant.

"I _told_ you to stop. The Gangers are also people, they have feelings and memories," the Doctor shouted at him.

"They are _Flesh_ , and they refused to be my army," the Master argued.

"The Flesh is a conscious, living thing," the Doctor sneered, just as much at the Master as at the humans.

"Oh, trust you to fall in love with anything that probes you back," the Master spat.

"Boys, boys," Amy interrupted them. She looked at the Doctor firmly. "Doesn't he have a point? This time around, anyway. Now we need to find a way to get back with Rory."

It had to be the first time Amy and the Master agreed on something that mattered. The Doctor was frustrated with them all.

"If you would just pay attention and try to understand that the Gangers feel and think like real people, that they believe they are real people," he insisted. "Rory can see it. Amy, surely you can too."

"Don't we have bigger problems right now? Like surviving and finding my husband?" Amy reminded him.

"Oh, we have far bigger problems than that. It's just about ready to get hysterical around here."

There was a moment of confusion as the Doctor's voice came from someplace that wasn't the Doctor. Then they saw the Ganger stepping forth, just as smug as the real deal despite its waxy facial features.

"Hello, all of you," the Ganger said with a smile as they stared. "I'm the Doctor."

"Oh, that's not bad at all," the Master murmured. The gears in his head were visibly turning. Amy staggered back, so did the crew.

"Remarkable," the Doctor mused, approaching his Ganger with excitement. That was when the Ganger cried out and collapsed. The Doctor grabbed it and tried to keep it steady. "He isn't stabilizing. I'm too much for the Flesh."

"Doctor!" Amy called out. It took both Jimmy and Cleaves to hold her back. She didn't want the Doctor anywhere near that Ganger.

"Eleven lifetimes in one Ganger," the Master said with interest. The Flesh wasn't made for that. The Doctor's Ganger managed a solid face with the right features, but it was twisting between the personalities of the former incarnations. The Master remembered some of them all too well. Hearing their voices even, that was spooky.

He stared at the Ganger, then back at the Doctor. "Wow. I wish you could do that. Think of all the fun we could have if you were all your incarnations at once."

"Down boy," the Doctor warned him while he helped his Ganger up. "Well, this is quite the situation we have on our hands."

"Good thing there's two of me to handle it," the other Doctor agreed. They straightened their bowties in unison.

"But there can't be two of you," Amy protested. "There can't be." She looked from one Doctor to the other, refusing to accept it.

"On the other hand, it seems there is," the Doctor said, examining himself as if looking into a mirror. "All the better to take care of the problem at hand.

"Even if the world might explode from the level of awesome," the Ganger agreed.

"He has a point," the Master agreed with a fat grin. He slipped in-between the Doctors, putting his arms around their waists. "Now, I still have a very strong urge to kill every last one of those Gangers, but there is a possibility I could be persuaded otherwise."

The Doctors exchanged looks. The Master looked up at them in anticipation.

"Amy, you wouldn't give us a moment?"

"Get a room, you whores," she said, covering her ears. "And be quick about it."

"What, they're not...?"

"Sure they are," Amy confirmed to the thoroughly disturbed crew.

"Seriously?" the Master asked, allowing himself to get hopeful. "Don't we have more important things to do?"

"If it keeps you from killing any of the Gangers, I believe this is very important," the Doctor said.

"Yes, first priority in fact, and now you owe us," the other Doctor agreed. "Which is a favourable position."

Despite all the catches, the Master was grinning like an idiot as they found their way into one of the chapel's backrooms and closed the door. There was an extra pew stowed away in there that would soon feel very violated.

"You know, I thought you would be far too stuffy for even considering this," the Master said as he grabbed himself two handfuls of Doctor ass.

"Oh, you know we've been around."

"And you happen to be in love with yourself," the Master purred as the Doctor kissed his neck. The other Doctor pulled his trousers down and took hold of his knees, pulling his feet up from the floor. "Mph!" His protest was silenced by a firm kiss and together the Doctors wrestled him down on the pew. Sure, the Master would get his way, but not in the way he imagined.

Not that he disapproved in any way. He struggled and would complain about the soreness later, but he loved every second of it. He was being ravished by the Doctor twice over. They worked together on stripping him down, with one always holding him down. Both lavished him with kisses and touches until he was trapped naked between them. He had taken water over his head and he didn't care.

Outside, Amy couldn't possibly shove her fingers deeper into her ears. At the same time she wasn't sure if she was entirely grossed out or if she was covering her ears on principle.

There was some heavy moaning coming from the backroom and sounds pointing to quite the struggle. Hot and flushed with arousal, the Master was still trying to get back in control if only because the Doctors enjoyed forcing him into submission. One Doctor had held his arms and the other kept his legs apart while they had their way with him. He was writhing and arching his body, muscles tense and skin glistening from the heat of their bodies grinding together.

They were one exhausted tangle of limbs by the end of it. The Master groaned in both dismay and satisfaction when the Doctors finally let go of him. There had to be a moment filled only by frantic gasping for air before anyone was ready to get dressed, and it was a self-conscious trio that returned to Amy afterwards.

"You boys are quite done, then?" she asked, lecturing. If anything, she was slightly annoyed that she hadn't been invited, even if she was married.

"For the most part," one of the Doctors said with a smirk at the Master, who was actually flustered, for once. He had been thoroughly screwed by two men who were on the exact same wavelength, who could finish each other's sentences and knew what the other was thinking. He hadn't stood a chance.

"Right," the other Doctor said, clapping his hands together. "About time we got going, wouldn't you say?" The Gangers were using the plant's acid to burn through the chapel door.

Amy wasn't as accepting of the Doctor Ganger as the Master had been. The crew weren't exactly whooping at the idea of following the Doctor and his Ganger after this, either, but the Doctors were just having too much fun.

"You have no idea how privileged I feel—"

"—To know how amazing I am in bed," the Doctors said while they were hurrying through an escapement from the chapel in order to escape the other Gangers. They got to a control room where they were hoping to find enough power to send an emergency signal and scan the monastery for the Gangers.

"I am sort of glad there is usually only one of you," the Master admitted. Introducing the Doctor to himself was like feeding sugar to a hyperactive child.

"Yeah, how are we supposed to know which one is the real Doctor?" Amy asked while the crew were trying to bring the machinery back to life.

"Well, I'm the Doctor," one of the Doctors said, hopping to help the crew with the machinery.

"And oh, oh, so am I," the other Doctor added, beaming as he, too, joined in. They were throwing the sonic back and forth between each other, which didn't help out on differentiating them. "The Flesh came alive—"

"—And another genuine Doctor was created."

"Both have the same memories from a centuries' long life."

"Both have the same obnoxious boyfriend." The Doctor patted the Master's ass. So did the other Doctor. They were both glared at.

"No, one of you was here first," Amy pressed on.

"Well, obviously," the Doctors said, each with a smirk.

"It's the shoes," the Master said. "The real Doctor's shoes got destroyed by the acid."

"Ah, yes."

"There is that."

Both Doctors rocked back on their heels. One had a pair of old shoes given to him by one of the crew.

"Worse than his usual fashion sense," the Master muttered to Amy.

"Satisfied, Pond?" the Doctor with the shiny black shoes asked.

"Yes," she said with an odd expression. "And don't call me Pond, please."

"That's strange," the black shoed Doctor said, furrowing his brows. "You definitely feel more affection towards him than me."

"No, it's not like... He's the real Doctor, don't get me wrong. Being almost the Doctor is pretty darn impressive as well," Amy tried to defend herself.

"Aw, Doctor. Don't be a sad puppy," the Master cooed. He snuck an arm around his waist. "I would screw you no matter what shoes you were wearing."

"But being almost the Doctor is like being no Doctor at all!"

The argument stopped as the crew had gotten contact with the mainland. Cleaves was requesting backup and asking that the Gangers be wiped out. Both Doctors were visibly disappointed.

It didn't help that the Doctor Ganger had a bit of a fit. He could connect with the flesh. The Doctor also felt it, but the Ganger scared Amy rather badly and now none of the crew would trust the Ganger.

"Maybe if you have sex with them, they will change their minds," the Master muttered casually to the Doctor, who was ignoring him. He was busy sonicing about with the screwdriver.

"The Gangers seem to be giving off a somewhat different signal," he said while his Ganger looked at them with puppy eyes from where the crew had placed him on a barrel to keep track of him.

"See, the sonic can tell the difference," Amy said. "There is a difference."

"I told you, he is genuine." The Doctor was getting exasperated.

"We got a visual," Buzzer informed.

"Roy and Jennifer," Amy said, running to the computer screen. She looked to the Doctor. "Shall we go get them?"

"They're heading for the thermostatic room," Cleaves determined.

The Doctor threw the sonic screwdriver to the other Doctor, who caught it.

"What, you're letting him go? Are you crazy?" Cleaves asked.

"Am I crazy? Doctor, what is the diagnosis?" the Doctor asked.

"Are you crazy? Well..." The other Doctor nudged his head in the Master's direction. "Keeping him around, I think that answers that. You did let him do that thing with the screwdrivers."

"Hey! You swore never to mention that. Both of you."

"Well, I'm going," Amy declared. "And I'm not going with him or letting him be responsible for finding my husband."

"Told you, he's the real Doctor just as much as me. Now, I need you to trust him, can you do that for me, Amy?"

Amy crossed her arms over her chest. She struggled, yes, but in the end she gave in. She paced about the monitors as the Doctor in the shiny black shoes left to find her husband and Jennifer. Not happy with either Doctor, she hovered over the crew, who were still at the computers and trying to find the Gangers. The Master and the supposed Doctor looked at each other.

"Does it feel any different to you?" the Doctor asked, barely a whisper. "Could you tell?"

The Master quirked his lips. "You don't feel quite the same way as other Time Lords. It's the smell."

"Yes, we thought as much," the Ganger murmured.

"But physically it's perfect down to every last inch," the Master purred and leaned in closer.

The Doctor Ganger stroked the Master's cheek and held his face with affection. "Then you could tell me what's wrong."

The Master froze.

"Amy is going to spill it to the Doctor eventually, thinking it's the Ganger. I know she's in on it."

"No," the Master decided. "No, that's the last thing you need to know." The Ganger didn't need to worry about that. The Master wasn't biased; he'd much rather have the Ganger die on that beach, but he knew that wasn't the case. He had felt and smelled the presence of a real Time Lord, as much as he liked to imagine himself being wrong.

"Oh, come on. Satisfy an old Ganger's curiosity, be a dear."

"I told you, no. But I can tell you something else. And if you tell the other Doctor I said this , I will melt your sorry ass," the Master muttered under his breath. He thought he knew why the Doctor was playing the old switcheroo on Amy and he wasn't about to muck it up. It had gotten to the point where it was pretty pointless to pretend that he didn't like the Ponds somewhat.

"Oh. Alright," the Ganger said with satisfaction.

The Master took hold of his suspenders and pulled him close to whisper something to him. The Ganger's face went from gleefully beaming to very serious. "Was that just to make me feel good or for both of us?" he asked.

"Something is wrong," Cleaves interrupted them. "The temperature gauges are rising."

"At this rate it'll kill us."

Jimmy was right, and so they had to spring back into action. The entire island would blow up shortly. The factory was melting down, Cleaves had a clot in her brain and Amy was struggling to breathe and having cramps. They also got tricked by Jennifer's Ganger and Rory (again tricked by Jennifer. The Ganger, that was) into the engine room where they were trapped.

The acid was threatening to kill them and Jimmy died trying to stop it. His Ganger burst in, overcome by humanity. Jimmy had a son, and that son needed a dad. It was all too sappy for the Master, but soon they were on the run again. Jennifer's Ganger had turned into a monster.

Now with Rory together with them again, they were running from the monster and following the Doctors to where the TARDIS crashed through the roof at a convenient moment. Cleaves, Jimmy's Ganger and Dicken were the only ones of the crew left and the Doctor ushered them into the TARDIS. The other Doctor was holding the door to the hall shut to keep monster Jennifer out, aided by Cleaves' Ganger.

"Doctor, we have to go!" Amy called out.

"Absolutely not. Door needs shutting. Can't you see I'm keeping you all safe?" the Doctor at the door told her.

"But what's going to happen to you?" she cried.

"Oh, nothing. This whole place will blow up, is all," he told her with a smile.

"But you can't," Amy protested.

"Would you rather I stay instead?" the Doctor with the shiny black shoes asked. "Mister Smith?"

"No, it's not like that," Amy persisted. Though she wasn't fooling anyone. "It's just, even if you're amazing and all, and the Master can't tell the difference between you in bed, you're not _him_. He and I have been through too much together, I know the difference."

"Amy," the Ganger at the door said. "We swapped shoes."

"You..." Amy looked from the Ganger to the Doctor, and then to the Master. "You knew?"

"Only because I am a Time Lord," the Master said. Somehow he was able to resist gloating. That was a new ability to take note of.

Amy looked at the Ganger with big eyes. "I can't believe it."

"Believe what?" the Ganger asked, only to be hugged so tightly.

"You are twice the man I thought you were."

It was a heartfelt moment, until the Ganger went weird again, but it was a Doctor sort of weird. "Push, Amy," he told her. "But only when she tells you to."

"Amy, we have to go!" Rory called out.

"But Doctor, no," Amy protested. The Ganger was just as much the Doctor. Rory, on the other hand, wasn't letting her stay in the collapsing factory and dragged her inside the TARDIS.

"You might survive this," the Doctor told his Ganger while sonicing him. "Your molecular structure."

"I'll tell you all about it if you were right," the Ganger replied, then he looked to the Master. "Take care of him."

"He takes care of me, really," the Master said.

"Oh, you have no idea," the Ganger said before he was surprised by a kiss. "Tell him," the Ganger murmured to the Master. "And thank you."

"Eventually," the Master assured, giving the Doctor Ganger a final hug before letting him go. There was some heavy banging on the door from monster Jennifer on the other side.

"We're sort of hot from this angle," the Doctor remarked.

"I'll die happy, knowing that. Cleaves, you're staying? This isn't a time for heroism."

"This is my plant. I'm staying," Cleaves' Ganger said firmly.

"Right, then," the Doctor said. He took the Master by his wrist and dragged him along. "All luck to the pair of you!"

They escaped inside the TARDIS. The Jimmy Ganger, with the real Jimmy's blessing, was returned to his family, to his son and wife. The Doctor fixed Cleaves' clot and she and Dicken were returned to their base of operation with the instructions to liberate the Flesh. It was a real, conscious being, and the Doctor would not have humanity abuse it further. It was a happy ending, all deaths considered. There was just one thing left to deal with. Amy was having contractions and it was about time they all had an explanation.

"You brought us there intentionally, didn't you?" the Master accused, seeing the Doctor struggle on where to start. They were back inside the TARDIS and it was hard to know where to go from here.

"Yes. Yes, well, I was going to take us all for tacos first, but then shenanigans and what have you. I get carried away. I needed to learn about the Flesh." He paused, one hand over his mouth as he thought. "Shenanigans. Beautiful word." He looked at Amy and Rory, apologetic. "I have been expecting this for a while now. Rory, step away from her."

"What? No," Rory refused.

"Rory, we will find her," the Doctor said with a furious passion. It took a moment, but Rory let go of her. Amy was scared. So scared. "We will find you," the Doctor promised her. "Wherever you are."

With the sonic screwdriver, the Doctor made Amy's Flesh avatar melt. Rory was beside himself. The Doctor turned to the Master. "I trust you will have my back on this one." A warning. The Master had better not get in the way of rescuing Amy.

"Do you, now?" the Master asked.

"You will be reasonable or you will be left behind."

The Master nodded, reluctant. There was a reason why he was number five, but he was too smart to argue with the Doctor when he was in this mood. Whoever had taken Amy had made the Doctor angry and they were going to pay.

*

"You sent Rory to get River?" the Master scowled. "Why does she have to come with you?"

"I am getting everyone together. Calling in favours, and you can believe there are a lot of those to be called in. Dorium Maldovar, the Silurian Madame Vastra, the Sontaran Commander Strax, you name it. River Song will come in handy as well."

"Oh, I am sure she will," the Master hissed with disapproval. This was when he decided that he would join the Doctor in rescuing Amy and the baby. While he didn't approve of Amy having been kidnapped from right under their noses, he'd needed a proper excuse not to stay in the TARDIS and be cross. River Song was a good one; he wasn't leaving the Doctor alone with her.

Now, it turned out that River wasn't showing up after all. She had refused Rory's invitation and said it wasn't her time. So be it. This was war and the Master was probably the handiest man to have as they landed on Demon's Run, the asteroid where Amy was being held. Hell, he cared for Amy and he was as unstoppable as the Doctor. When they cooperated like this, they were a perfect storm. They were ice and fire and death.

And yet somehow, not a drop of blood was spilt. So the Master had to admit that the Doctor once again came out on top. The Doctor was the one who intimidated everyone and in some infuriating way managed to avoid violence and at the same time rescue Amy and the baby. Melody Pond. They could all return to the docking bay where the TARDIS was waiting.

"By the Untempered Skism, will someone shut that thing up?" the Master whined. Amy was trying to calm Melody while Commander Strax was being creepy. The Doctor appeared from the TARDIS to their rescue, brandishing an old cot that he put down next to Amy.

"What's this?" Amy asked with glee. "Look at that." It was a pretty cot, despite its age.

"Give her here," the Doctor requested. "What she needs is a proper rest." The Master didn't like how eager he was about this whole baby situation. Talking to it and giving it attention. Soon it would be expecting the Doctor to be dependable, or worse, the Doctor might want one of his own. He'd had children before and might get nostalgic. The Master didn't get to hold Melody. They were all friendly and that, but everyone thought it best if he didn't.

Then the Doctor was called to the control room. The Master went with him.

"You gave them your cot. You are the biggest sap there is. You kept it for centuries only to give it away to some monkeys."

"What, you had other plans for it?" the Doctor asked.

"No, but you're coddling them," the Master accused. He wasn't at all pleased with how he had been ignored throughout this entire event. He hadn't even been allowed to fight. Amy and the baby were safe, so now he could be difficult again.

"Master, please. We are not done here yet."

And rightfully so. The Silurian and Dorium had looked over the files about Amy and discovered Time Lord DNA. It took a lot of explanation for the Master not to murder the Doctor on the spot, but he went silent as the Silurian pointed out why these people wanted Melody, a Time Lord, as a weapon. It was because they had watched the Doctor. This hit the Doctor hard.

They were also realizing that this had been too easy. Madame Vastra and Dorium returned to the docking bay where the three Ponds and the TARDIS were stationed. The Doctor remained silent in a chair, still letting it sink in that he had been the template for a weaponized Time Lord.

The Master took a seat and slid the chair over in front of the Doctor so they were facing each other. He took the Doctor's hands. "Don't," he told him.

"It's my fault," the Doctor said.

"No, people like me are the reason why the world needs people like you," the Master told him firmly. In all honesty, he rather thought the Doctor was at fault. Anyone who watched the Doctor would want to either destroy or control him. He knew exactly what that was like. "You can't help being magnificent."

"And you're being awfully nice." The Doctor looked at him with harsh eyes. "What are you keeping from me?" he demanded. "Why won't you trust me?"

"I do trust you." Odd, how easy it was to say that. Well, it wasn't really odd. No one had suffered for as long as the Doctor because of him, yet no one would care for him like the Doctor did. "But you're not supposed to know."

The Doctor's jaw was clenched. Melody was Flesh and the Master was hiding something truly important from him. It was all wrong and he couldn't fix it.

"Why was I number five?" the Master asked.

"Pardon?"

"That you trust. I was number five."

The Doctor was taken aback. "Well, I should think that's obvious."

"Well pardon an old, frustrated man," the Master gritted out.

"Master," the Doctor said, shaking his head. "Would you be offended if I said you are still rather insane?"

"... Well."

"Exactly." The Doctor took hold of his shoulders. "Now, see, no matter how much I like you or enjoy having you around, even if I know you so well, you are a hazard. A lovely hazard. Hazarvely, if you will, but a hazard nevertheless. Insane and not entirely predictable."

"No one knows me like you do."

"And yet you keep surprising me," the Doctor said, tapping the Master's nose. "Now, there are some distressed Ponds who need tending to."

"Of course."

They couldn't rescue Melody. The monks attacked. Commander Strax was killed and the villains got away. Amy was struggling not to blame the Doctor. And that's when River popped up, apparently just to taunt the Doctor about how he had made the galaxies fear his name.

"You brought this down on them, my love," River accused. "And now they've taken a baby."

"Who _are_ you?" the Doctor demanded. He was furious enough for the Master to stay behind and watch with satisfaction. "I come every time you call, and you—"

"Oh, look! Your cot. Haven't seen that in a long while," River said, backing off, but he followed, grabbing her by the wrist.

"Tell me who you are." His voice was melting the Master, so enraged and demanding.

"I am telling you," River said, gesturing to the cot.

The Master and the Ponds were left confused, unable to see what the Doctor was seeing. Whatever it was turned the Doctor's mood right around.

"You're..."

"Yes," River said with a smile.

"But we..." The Doctor turned to look at the Ponds, then turned white as he glanced over the Master and back again at River. "But what about...?"

And now it was impossible to read River's expression.

"What is going on?" the Master growled.

"Nothing. Everything. River, get this lot back to Earth. Amy, don't worry. Just don't," the Doctor said. He was already making a run for the TARDIS.

"Oh, no you don't!" the Master yelled after him. He grabbed the door and made his way inside before the Doctor could take off without him. "What was that? You were leaving me with _her_?"

"I hadn't expected you to stay behind," the Doctor said, already on the job of dematerializing the TARDIS. "Still, doesn't hurt to try, eh?"

The Master grabbed the Doctor's wrists and held him in place.

"Explain. Now."

"Alright, you got me," the Doctor said with the glee of a five year old. "River song is their daughter. _She_ is Melody Pond."

The Master's eyes narrowed. "I see. And what were you so stressed about, pray tell?"

Glee was replaced by guilt in an instant.

"Look, I don't even know myself what happened, or what will happen or have happened. It's all very confusing with the different times and perspectives. I'm starting to understand what Idris meant now."

"You are a Time Lord," the Master reminded him, not buying it. "You don't get confused. Don't take me for a fool. She is in love with you and you aren't minding this one bit; that much is obvious. What I want to know is what you're not telling me."

"It wouldn't be what I'm not telling you if I told you, now would it? Heh." The Doctor straightened his bowtie.

The Master wasn't amused.

"Look, you have things you won't tell me, maybe because I am better off not knowing. This is like that, but different in the sense that it's the other way around."

"You're having an affair."

"She kissed me! I wasn't expecting it and it might have happened again in the future, the coming future, not the future that's been, I don't know!"

"You don't _know_ if you are going to kiss her again," the Master spat.

"I can't predict the future," the Doctor complained.

"You could, I don't know, decide not to kiss her again?" the Master suggested.

"Look, it's not like you have been faithful exactly. Remember Rome? Caligula? You were doing horrible things that I am refusing to imagine."

"That was years ago!" the Master exclaimed. "Pretty much the height of my insanity. I changed, we changed. Didn't we?" he asked. There was something beseeching in his voice as he waited for the Doctor's reply. "Didn't we?"

"Well, yes."

"I don't believe you," the Master groaned. "It's just like that brat said."

"What? Who said?"

"Amy. I told her how you love playing around with your little companions up until you break them. Your broken little toys," he huffed. "I am already broken. Oh, but River is perfect, isn't she?" He pursed his lips, circling the Doctor with every word laced in poison. "Made just for you, by your _sexy_ TARDIS. She lives for the days she sees you. You love that."

"Stop it," the Doctor hissed.

" _You_ can't stop until she is as broken as you are. She's fresh, she's fun. Is that it? Just like Amy, except River doesn't have a husband. If I didn't know better, I'd say she thought of you as her lover already."

"I told you I don't know what happens!" the Doctor shouted and pushed him away. "She talks to me as if we are already a happy couple. It's as if we have a future, something you and I don't."

He'd gone too far, he knew. He didn't need to see the Master's face in order to tell.

"Heh. And here _I_ was convinced that the worst of us was in the past."

"Master, I didn't..."

"Yes you did. But you know what?"

The Master grabbed him by the suspenders and pulled him close, their noses almost touching.

"I don't care. Do whatever the Hell you want with her. I intend on making the most of you while I have you."

This was where it clicked into place for the Doctor.

"That day at the beach..."

"I'm not saying anything." The Master let go of him.

"It was I who sent the envelopes."

The Master was leaving the control room. The Doctor ran after him.

"I invited you all, me included, to that beach. Why? What happened? Was it something between me and River?"

"Keep dreaming," the Master hissed, slamming doors and trying to get away from the Doctor.

"What happened, then? Did something happen to me?"

"Not saying! Do your ears function properly?"

"Hardly ever. Why are you acting so strange? You're being both nice and supportive, and you don't care that I snogged River."

The Master came to a dead halt.

"Snogged? You said it was just a kiss."

"Never mind that. Now we are getting somewhere. Just tell me something."

"You _died_."

"I don't think I understand."

"You died. Dead. Shot several times, then shot again when you tried to regenerate. I doused your body in a can of gasoline that _you_ had made sure was available, and I set it on fire. So now we have both attended each other's funerals. Happy? Satisfied? Anything else you would like me to suffer through before you and I crash and burn like we were always meant to?"

"Now, that's a bit harsh, don't you think?" The Doctor fidgeted, straightened his coat, looked away and everything he did when he had no idea what to do with himself.

"No. No it isn't," the Master assured and shook his head. "To think I almost chose death over being stuck in the TARDIS with you. I wish I had."

"No, Master, please don't say that." The Doctor pulled him into an embrace. "Don't."

The Master sagged against him and clung onto his coat. "Then don't die, goddamn you."

"That beach is a fixed point in—"

"I bloody well know that!"

"Don't blame me. It's not like I want to die."

He trailed off. The Master had nothing more to say to him. He let out a deep breath and leaned against the wall, still holding the Master to him. Surely he couldn't die. He still had so much life left in him.

"You will tell me if something like this happens again, won't you?"

"I will keep it in mind the next time you invite me to your death."

"You never know," the Doctor said thoughtfully. "I would say it was a good thing if I got a second chance at arranging my own funeral."

"You're not funny."

"No? I was under the distinct impression that I am a very fun guy to be around. Funny and cool."

The Master bit him. He yelped and clutched his shoulder.

"Are you going to take this seriously or not?" the Master growled.

" _Ow_. If you're not careful I am going to die of rabies before I have any chance to get shot," the Doctor warned and rubbed his shoulder.

"I am going to lock myself inside my room now and play with my dolls," the Master told him, so serious it wasn't even funny. He pushed the bedroom door open. "Ten would never do this to me." He slammed the door and deadlocked it.

The Doctor clenched his fists. He struggled between walking away and trying again. "You're only saying that to annoy me!" he yelled, kicking at thin air. "It's working." He folded his arms and turned his back on the door. "I'm the one dying! You could try and feel sorry for someone other than yourself for once." He was pacing. The Master wasn't replying. The Doctor left in defeat.

*

"Seriously, you two?" the Doctor asked.

"This is just unacceptable," the Master agreed with his arms crossed over his chest.

They had landed the TARDIS in a field after discovering a distinct crop circle in the newspaper. The Master knew Amy and Rory would be wailing for them to return soon enough, but this was just wrong.

"I mean, 'Doctor/Master'? My name should obviously come first," the Master complained.

"Whatever," Amy said. "We got your attention, didn't we?"

"In a lame and tacky way," the Doctor huffed with indignation. He could only hold onto his annoyance for so long, on the other hand. He was too happy to see them again. "Permission to hug?" he asked Rory.

"Granted," Rory sighed as the Doctor went for his wife.

"Denied!" the Master protested. He was ignored. The Doctor hugged Amy tightly and the Master grimaced. "Anyway, if the strikethrough was meant as a message, you can have the Doctor. He's been insufferable."

"Says you," the Doctor snapped back at him.

"What strikethrough?" Amy asked.

The Master held up the newspaper. On the front page was a picture of the crop circles that read Doctor/Master.

"We didn't make that."

An engine roared. They were forced to throw themselves out of the way as a sleek car skidded to a halt right next to the TARDIS. Mels had crashed the party and the cops were at her heels. She stepped out of the car with a gun in one hand and a far too satisfied smile.

"The Raggedy Doctor. Amy, you never mentioned he was hot."

"Mels, not _again_!" Amy groaned.

"Excuse me, Doctor not following, Doctor very confused," the Doctor interrupted Amy's oncoming yelling. "You never said I was hot?"

"Yes, Amy, what's wrong with that tiny mind of yours? You spend all day talking about my legs and forget all about him."

"Who's he?" Mels asked.

"You never...?" The Master's rage got cut short as the sirens were getting dangerously close and Mels pointed her gun at them.

"Time to make use of that time machine, Doctor."

The Doctor raised his arms in the air but was reluctant. "Now, contrary to popular belief, the TARDIS is not a getaway van."

Mels fired off a shot right over his head.

"On second thought, where would you like to go?"

Mels grinned. "Let's see. We have a time machine, I have a gun. I say we kill Hitler."

"You can say whatever you want, I like her. That girl has the right attitude with time travel," the Master said after they'd ran into the TARDIS and started takeoff.

"Who is he?" Mels asked. It was directed at Amy, but it was the Doctor who replied by putting an arm around the Master.

"Why, this is my little Time Monster," he said, turning a wheel with his free hand.

"You had better be talking about your penis," the Master warned him. "Really, Amy, you never mentioned me?"

"I didn't know you," Amy said. She was glaring at her friend. "I told Mels about the Doctor when I was little."

"But the Doctor could have told you about me. Then I could be like your imaginary friend's imaginary boyfriend. Which I probably was at that time, anyway," the Master said with a smirk in the Doctor's direction. "Remember how much you _missed_ me? You got yourself a pair of pets in effort to get over me."

The two were running about the TARDIS dashboard and piloting it at gunpoint, but they were too busy bickering to worry about being shot. The Doctor narrowed his eyes at the Master.

"And who came running back, hm? You've gone entirely soft for me."

The Master's lips curled with displeasure. "Remember how you held me and _cried_ over me after Lucy shot me? The drums were driving me crazy and all I could think of was myself. We seem to have switched places. Congratulations, you have finally become me."

He couldn't see the Doctor's reaction. The conversation was cut short by Mels who had fired off a shot inside the TARDIS to shut them up.

*

They had crash-landed. The Doctor was petulant as they climbed out of the time machine and Mels still had the balls to complain.

"You _shot_ my TARDIS!" he exclaimed.

"Cannibalizing it doesn't seem like such a big deal now, does it?" the Master asked.

" _Yes_! Be quiet, all of you. Where are we?"

They looked around. There were Nazi flags and a big desk. They appeared to have gotten to their destination. Then there was Hitler, who was staring at them in shock.

"Thank you, whoever you are. I think you have just saved my life."

They exchanged looks.

"You can't say this hasn't been one of our more interesting trips," the Master argued.

There was another man knocked out on the floor. While everyone was sharing an awkward moment, he got up and Hitler freaked out. He shot at him several times before Rory punched Hitler to the floor and took his gun.

"Sit still. Be quiet."

"He was going to kill me!"

"Shut up, Hitler."

The Master gave Rory two thumbs up in a rare moment of approval.

"Rory, put Hitler in the cupboard," the Doctor ordered.

"Right. Hitler, cupboard. Cupboard, Hitler, Hitler cupboard."

"Amy," the Master muttered, leaning over to her. "I wouldn't mind swapping. For a while."

"Mels!" Amy wasn't listening. The guy who Hitler had shot at was fine, but fainted. Mels, on the other hand...

They rushed over to her as she collapsed on some debris.

"Too bad. I rather liked her. Where do we go next?" the Master asked.

"Shut up, Master," the Doctor said. He was leaning over Mels, who was dying. "Hold on."

"Heh. I used to dream about you. Those stories Amy used to tell me... You were amazing. I was going to marry you."

"Good, let's get married. You stay alive, I marry you, deal?"

"Hey!"

"Shouldn't you ask my parents first?" Mels asked. She was near dead. Except she didn't die. Instead, she started glowing. The Doctor dragged the Ponds out of the way and the Master leapt to the side as she began regenerating. New skin tone, new hair and everything, yet it was all distinctly familiar. They stared in shock as Mels became Amy and Rory's River Song.

"Oh. It's _you_ ," the Master growled.

"What?" River asked, but she was far too busy running around and checking herself out to pay any actual attention.

"I taught her that bloody annoying way of greeting me," the Master sighed to himself while the Doctor and the Ponds were trying to piece this all together. Eventually, though, River had enough of the niceties. She'd gotten hold of Hitler's gun and pointed it at the Doctor. Of course, the Doctor had emptied out the bullets. She picked up her own gun and the Doctor had removed the clip.

It was a weird way of flirting that made the Master both disgusted and jealous. This was _his_ job. Currently he wasn't at all disposed against trying to kill the Doctor himself, up until River actually kissed him. He'd had enough. Snatching up the clip, he reloaded River's gun and shot her.

Everyone yelled at him as River staggered back. The Master just fired away until he had emptied the entire clip into her. Then he pulled out his laser screwdriver and continued to shoot until Amy and Rory grabbed him by the arms and wrestled him to the floor. He hated the fact that it wasn't going to kill her. With a burst of regeneration energy, River healed and knocked them all back. She laughed and stepped onto the windowsill as the Doctor buckled.

"See, this is what you get when you kiss cheap whores!" the Master yelled. He grabbed the Doctor before he hit the floor. The Doctor couldn't die here.

"Let go. Let go, you have to go after River," the Doctor groaned.

"You won't stay alive if I promise to marry you, I suppose?"

"No, that only works when I do it. _Nngh_. Go! I need to get into the TARDIS." The Doctor was struggling to get up. He shoved his screwdriver into Amy's hand and stumbled towards the TARDIS.

"Oh, no you—!"

The Doctor slammed the door in the Master's face. He crawled into the TARDIS.

"Voice command activate," he called out after collapsing in the control room.

" _Voice command activated_." A hologram of him had appeared and he cringed.

"No, give me someone I like," he whined. It changed into Rose. " _Oh_ , no, no. No!" And Martha and Donna just brought out too much guilt. "Someone in this universe I didn't screw up!"

" _Voice interface enabled_."

The Doctor looked up from where he was clutching at his chest. He scoffed with indignation. "How is that not screwed up?"

The hologram of the Master didn't react. " _I am a voice interface_."

"Of course you are. Have to hand it to Rasillon, you weren't _my_ handiwork at least."

" _I am not the Master. I am a voice interface._ "

"Stubborn as always. _Gh_... How am I holding up?"

" _Your system has been infected with poison from the Judas Tree. You will be dead in thirty-two minutes._ "

"Oh, you'd like that," the Doctor gritted out. "But you know I'm fine. See, I'm fine. I'll find a cure and I'll be just fine."

" _There is no cure. You will be dead in thirty-two minutes_."

The Doctor was twisting in agony on the floor. "I. Am _fine_ ," he hissed.

" _You will be fine for thirty-one minutes. You will be dead in thirty-two minutes._ "

"Hah, but I'll come up with something clever. You know I always do, that's why you keep trying. You wouldn't actually ever want me dead. If you were in here, you'd be crying all over me."

" _I am not the Master. I am a voice interface_."

The Doctor gritted his teeth. His mind was racing for ideas to avert his death and the hologram didn't help him. "You should be crying, you stupid hologram."

The near static hologram changed and instead played a recording from after the Titanic incident, when the Master was locked up and going mad in a corner.

"Right," the Doctor said, feeling guilt creep up on him once more. "But that was just one time; I fixed you. _That's_ right. Rasillon screwed you up and I made you better, I actually made you better!" He'd actually, definitely made the Master better. He just realized this. The Master would have been helping him now if he hadn't locked him out.

The hologram changed back to the static. " _You will be dead in thirty-one minutes_."

The Doctor wasn't listening. He was forcing himself up on his knees, pulling himself up by the TARDIS console. "Except," he panted with newfound inspiration. "You won't have to watch me die again. Not today."

*

The Ponds and the Master had been picked up by the Teseleca that had previously tried to kill Hitler. Now it was after River and it led them right to her. The Master was quite gleeful about the prospect of her being tortured, but then the TARDIS appeared with the Doctor all spiffed up with a sonic cane. This was so not happening. It didn't help that he encouraged them to stop the Teselecta from torturing River.

Amy used the sonic screwdriver to bust the Teselecta's systems. Now they were trapped and about to be destroyed while the Doctor was dying. The Master was all too relieved to have the TARDIS rescuing them, up until he found it was River piloting it. He yelled at her until she took them back to the dying Doctor. They rushed to his aid, without much to do other than to look at him and be worried.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said. He couldn't move and for the first time he appeared to have trouble speaking. "Nothing can help me now." He grabbed onto the Master's sleeve and clenched onto it.

"Stop lying," the Master hissed. "We know you won't die here."

"You told him?" Amy exclaimed.

"What matters is that he has to live!"

"No. No, don't. There's no helping me," the Doctor insisted. "Don't. Master. Don't, I don't want you to."

"I wasn't." The Master narrowed his eyes and looked at River. "You did this to him and you can save him."

" _No_ ," the Doctor protested weakly, and that was probably the last thing he was capable of saying. He couldn't even keep his eyes open any more.

River was all shaken up. She had been told that she was, in fact, River Song. One that the Doctor trusted. The glowing light of regeneration energy was around her hands and she knew what she had to do. "Is he worth it?" she asked.

"Yes. Yes he is," Amy said. She wasn't entirely sure what was happening. She and Rory looked to the Master, then to River who kneeled down by the Doctor. The Master was fighting not to interrupt as she had the audacity to kiss the Doctor once more while she gave him her regenerations.

*

It could have been a lot more painful, the Master realized. River was in the hospital and they were back in the TARDIS. She wasn't travelling with them, yet.

"After all, you don't want this place going any more domestic," he said with venom in his voice. "Dragging your wife and in-laws around." The Ponds were taking this as their sign to get on with their own business. They left the Master and the Doctor alone in the control room.

"Oh, I don't know how that would turn out. She poisoned me and gave her remaining regenerations to save me. As far as first dates go, I would call that mixed signals."

The Master shook his head with disgust and went for the control panel. "Where are we going next?"

"Hey, hey, you know I didn't mean that seriously," the Doctor said, trying to laugh it off.

"You kissed her again, twice."

"You shot her, and anyway I was almost dead one of those times."

"Until she is dead I haven't shot her enough."

"Look, I am sorry," the Doctor told him. "It wasn't meant to turn out like this."

The Master was hell-bent on being stubborn. He concentrated on driving the TARDIS and getting them as far away from River as he possibly could.

"At least Ten was able to have a serious moment from time to time."

" _Serious_. That's no fun, that's dull and just makes everyone so moody. No, look now, you and I, we are serious but that doesn't mean we have to be _serious_ , if you know what I mean. When were we ever? Even when I was young and grumpy and you had that awful beard, we still had great times. Remember the first time we met on Earth? You allied yourself with plastic."

"You stole a part from my TARDIS and got me stuck there with you," the Master replied coldly. "Do I need to demonstrate the whole 'not funny', 'funny' faces again so you might understand the difference?"

"Oh, come on. You tried running me over with a minibus and I couldn't wait for the next time we would see each other."

The Master remembered. He had to crack a smile. "Oh, _fine_. As far as first dates go, that wasn't bad. You wore a cape; that was hot."

"So what do you say?" the Doctor asked, clapping his hands together. "We forget about River Song, you give me a kiss and tell me you forgive me and then we go for a holiday. Every day is holiday for us, except when we have to save the world; then it's an exciting holiday, but we can't have any frowny faces on holidays, now can we?"

The Master pulled a lever while he considered, watching the Doctor out of the corner of his eye. "Wash your face, first. Then we'll talk."

They didn't get that holiday any time soon. Not when the Doctor received a message on the psychic paper; a cry for help from a little boy who was having nightmares.

"We are responsible adults," the Doctor explained to the father. It turned out to finally be a lie too big for the slightly psychic paper.

"This is when the paper spontaneously combusts," the Master muttered.

Nevertheless, they elbowed their way in and began helping. The Doctor, anyhow. He was able to help because the Master wasn't getting in the way. The Master was a big, scary monster in the child's eyes and had been put in the closet with all the other scary things. The Doctor was in a silent panic, but played it cool with Amy and Rory up until Amy also got trapped, and they suspected that the Master had set the doll house on fire because of the smoke coming out of the closet.

It was all very unsettling. The boy was an alien being and somehow the only thing needed to save the day was just some love from his parents. It all got too sappy for the Master and he was the first one back inside the TARDIS while the Doctor had breakfast with George and his father.

They returned only to discover that the Master had gone through the TARDIS' dressing room. He had found the Doctor's old scarf from his fourth incarnation. He was wearing it, and he wasn't wearing anything else.

"We'll... leave you guys alone," Rory said. He had to drag Amy with him before he got any more embarrassed, and before her eyes fell out, preferably.

"Amy had a point," the Doctor said, getting all fidgety. "You do have nice legs."

"You washed your face?" the Master asked as he looped the Doctor in with some excessive length of scarf. The Doctor nodded.

"That thingy is an antique, you know— _oh_."

They were a tangle of scarf and bodies before he knew it. The Master still had a way of getting him all flustered when he wanted to.

"We need to stop having sex in the control room," the Doctor said once they were done and lying in a breathless heap on the floor. He tried to get up, but the scarf was tied to one of his wrists, his thighs and several other body parts. He promptly fell back into the heap.

"And we'll stop arguing, shall we?" the Master asked and put an arm around him. "I might just win a galactic peace price while we are at it."

"Either way it will be your job to explain these stains to the dry cleaners."

After this, they felt rather bad for Amy and Rory. The Doctor did, at any rate. To make it up to them, they would finally get to that holiday; the Doctor would take them to the second most popular holiday planet in the system; Apalapucia. He couldn't stand coffee shops and the Master couldn't stand being around people he couldn't kill, so it was all working out.

Of course, they landed in a medical facility wherein Amy got herself trapped. The planet was suffering from an attack of Chen7, and the Apalapucians had founded "kindness centres", which the Master scoffed at. He wouldn't be scoffing for long. When the Doctor found out that Amy had been locked in a time stream that suspended one day so that the infected could live out their lives, he got nervous.

"You will be able to get her out, right?" Rory asked.

"Well, yes, but, the thing is..." The Doctor was ripping loose the lens in the visiting room. With it they could keep contact with Amy. "If the TARDIS is even five minutes late, we have no idea how much time might have passed for Amy.

"Some months on her own will just make her appreciate us more," the Master said without concern. He did aid the Doctor with his screwdriver, but only because he liked destroying public property.

"And I wonder what would happen if we did that with _you_ ," the Doctor said and frowned. "Amy is going to be all alone and we are already wasting time. Weeks will have passed. You have trouble enough spending one day in a locked room."

"I am a psychopath! Amy's mental condition might be questionable—"

"That's my wife you are talking about," Rory protested.

"—But she isn't going to flip out if she is left on her own for a few weeks."

"It's going to be a lot more than weeks," the Doctor murmured. The way he looked at the Master was not reassuring. The Master took a step back.

"Oh, no. No. _You_ can go in there if you want to risk your life, I am not. I can pilot the TARDIS better than you, anyway. You are going to screw up and she'll be dead from old age before you get your sorry ass in there to save her."

"I never ask anything of you," the Doctor said. "Master, please. We can get you vaccinated. All you have to do is stay with her and protect her for a little while. Rory and I will use the lens and have the TARDIS lock onto Amy's life stream. We'll be right in there to get you."

The Master hated it and so did Rory, but in the end he gave in. They were already wasting precious time. While they couldn't make the TARDIS materialize inside the specific time stream, they could use the door to get in, but not out. As prepared as he could be, the Master pressed the red button on the lift and stepped in.

"If I die, Doctor, you had better tell everyone it was for an evil cause. Not... Not keeping a human girl safe," he snarled.

"You will be excellent. And careful, I hope."

The lift closed and the Master stepped out in the kindness centre to be greeted by the Handbots. He was despising this already. At least their vaccines and medicines wouldn't kill him instantly. Now, to find out whether Amy was alive and sane still.

The place was deserted and he sincerely hoped he was in the right time stream. He had wandered the place for quite a while when he spotted the writing in lipstick on the wall. It was a message Amy had left for the Doctor, signalling where she was. It looked old.

The Master ventured into this darker section of the centre, one arm over his mouth even though the vaccine should keep him safe. He was paranoid. The idea of dying here was sickening, but he forgot all about it when he saw Amy. She had pulled together somewhat of a home in there, and she had a Handbot with a face on it that she had named Rory. She was sitting on a crate, crying silently.

"Amy?"

She looked up. She was older, but she wasn't _old_ yet, per say. Above all she was genuinely surprised to see him.

"Master?"

"How long has it been?" he asked. Rarely did he get stuck in a room with her alone. This was going to be awkward. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Why would he send you? It's been four years. I was starting to think he'd given up on me, heh." She sniffed and straightened herself up. The Master appeared to have caught her at one of the more embarrassing moments.

"He is coming, but apparently it was too cruel to leave you here by yourself," the Master replied sourly and sat down on another crate. "He needs time to fix onto you so he can materialize the TARDIS in here. Who knows how long we are stuck."

"So he's not here yet." What hope had reignited in Amy's eyes was going out. "What about Rory?"

The Master let out an audible sigh. "It hasn't even been ten minutes for them. He is _fine_. You had better not be this dreary all the time, or you are going to be horrible company."

"Wait, am I getting this right?" Amy asked. "You are staying here with me? To keep me company?"

The Master nodded. His frown was comical at this point, the very definition of "not funny." To think that he had been a proud, powerful Time Lord once. The best. Had Gallifrey still existed, he could have been ruling it, but here he was, babysitting a monkey. Not five minutes away from the Doctor and he was easing back into destructive thoughts.

Amy didn't mind. Not when the Master could help her keep the Handbots away. If not the best company, the Master was at least destroying robots left and right. Only Rorybot got to live. With the parts, Amy made herself armour and the Master showed her how to make a sonic device of her own. She called it a sonic probe. The Master cracked up whenever she said its name, and she couldn't deny it was pretty funny when the Master said it in his sleaziest voice.

Now and again they actually had some laughs together. It helped, somewhat. The Master couldn't stand how slowly time passed when they weren't doing anything interesting. As the days snailed by, he counted all the evil plots he could have pulled off during their time at the centre. Amy just laughed.

"You might as well be counting all the times the Doctor could have kicked your arse," she said, snapping her fingers. "He'd be onto you like _that_."

"Maybe I like it when he's onto me. 'The Sonic Screwdriver' isn't just a tool, you know. It's also this thing he does when we—"

"Okay, no, stop that. None of that," Amy told him. "We agreed on no creepy stories. That man kissed my daughter."

"Don't remind me," the Master warned her.

"Ooh. Someone's jealous," Amy singsonged.

"You are, too. Don't pretend like you don't have a crush on him."

Amy's face fell into a frown. "Yes, well, I'm happy with Rory. And the Doctor... What are you going to do?"

The Master had hoped they could avoid this conversation. "I will think of something. I always do."

"I hope you do."

The days became months and years. The Master was getting bored to death, but Amy was losing faith. Understanding the difference between the time streams, the Master knew that the Doctor and Rory hadn't been long, but two decades had worn on Amy. It was a little grotesque to him, watching her grow old. It had been funny when he had aged the Doctor with his screwdriver, but this was sad, in some way. He pitied her.

The two of them stuck together at most times, avoiding the Handbots and moving from room to room. At least they had the scenery to enjoy. One was a vast garden. They knew it by heart now, after countless walks in feeble attempts at passing the time. Amy was sitting on a bench, tired after their last fight with the Handbots.

"Sometimes it would be centuries between the times we met," the Master said. He was talking mostly to himself. Amy wasn't very responsive, but he kept in the vicinity, shooting down butterflies with his screwdriver. "Now and then he would have a new face, other times I would. Speaking of, you never saw what I could do with masks and mind control. Brilliant. Did I tell you about this machine that supposedly sucked out the evil in people? It could trigger a vision of their worst nightmares and make them die of shock."

"You told me," Amy said. Her voice was different. The Master had almost forgotten what the young Amy sounded like. He hadn't paid attention to her, and now she was the only thing in the world left to pay attention to. He was noticing the small changes.

"Huh."

"What?"

"First time I repeated myself since we got here. I'm running out of stories. We must have been here for a while." He fell silent. Amy was silent. The garden was one huge place filled with pressing silence.

The silence continued over the next years. It turned out not to matter. Awkward moments had long since been eliminated and replaced by comfortable quiet. They had a routine every day to keep them alive and nothing else mattered. Amy had gotten to somewhat know the Master by now. Whether they kept each other sane or spiralled deeper into insanity together was hard to say. Possibly it was a bit of both. Together they _survived_ , was probably the most appropriate way of putting it.

Another decade. For thirty-six years it was just Amy, the Master and Rorybot living like scavengers. The Master kept Amy safe, but by now she was very capable of taking care of herself. She was an old woman who had long since given up on the idea of being rescued. If they did eventually come, they would be too late for her.

She had told the Master, "If you ever get back to them, please tell Rory that I only blame the Doctor." They were harsh words filled with contempt. The Master only nodded to her. He knew the Doctor would eventually show up, but he was feeling her hatred and he was, in many ways, agreeing. He wouldn't have been there if it wasn't for the Doctor, but his priorities had shifted. He was doing this for Amy, not for him.

She hardly showed much other than bitterness at this point. She was cold, efficient and precise whenever they fought the Handbots, quiet and defeated when they were alone.

Then, after a few more days it happened. They ran into Rory. He was wearing Ten's glasses, which looked ridiculous on him, but nevertheless it was Rory. The glasses allowed him to keep contact with the Doctor.

The Master had been worried that Amy would be completely stoic upon seeing Rory again, should it ever happen. Whether it was because of him or because she had held onto some emotion, he didn't know, but she lit up when she saw him. Rory didn't notice, but the Master did. Compared to her younger self she was still bitter, but Rory had brought her happiness again.

So the Doctor had latched onto the wrong time stream. Of course he had. The Master had very mixed feelings about him, though less than forty years wasn't much of his lifetime. Amy, on the other hand... Now, the Doctor wanted her help to bring the younger Amy into this time stream so he could save her, but that wasn't about to happen. The older Amy would not give up on her existence, the years she had suffered because of the Doctor. The Master found himself backing her up.

Rory was furious at the Doctor and the Doctor was furious at the Master for agreeing with her. He put the glasses on speaker phone. "Master, don't be ridiculous. We can fix this."

"You should have let me drive," the Master told him.

"This isn't the time for jokes!"

"Do I _look_ amused?" he asked. He definitely wasn't making the funny face.

"Listen to me, both of you. We can use the lens to help your younger selves across the time streams if you simply do as I say. You won't have to have experienced any of this."

The Master looked to Amy. This strange alliance was baffling both Rory and the Doctor.

"Amy, please," Rory begged.

"I hate him." Amy said.

"What?"

"Are you listening, Doctor?" she called out at the glasses. "I _hate_ you. I am not going to let you erase that and have me skipping along all happy like as if nothing happened."

"But if you would just let us save you, nothing _would_ have happened," the Doctor argued. "Master? Please."

The Master looked to Amy. It was weird to have respect for a human. He should have enjoyed watching her deteriorate into an old hag. "He left me here to keep you company."

"Shows how much he cares about you."

"I had no idea it would take so long," the Doctor kept on insisting.

"Take both of them with you," the Master said.

"What? Have you gone insanerer? The TARDIS could never handle the paradox."

"Unless we turn it into a paradox machine again," the Master said smoothly. He had both Amy and Rory's attention, now.

"You could do that?" Amy asked. "It would save both of us?"

"Doctor?" Rory tapped a finger at the glasses when there wasn't any reply. It took a moment, and when it came, the Doctor sounded as if he was fighting to keep his anger back.

"It's _wrong_."

"Then you shouldn't have failed us in the first place," the Master murmured. He had thought he would be happy for hearing the Doctor's voice again, but it was hard to feel anything right then.

Silence. Then a strangled "Fine."

The Master nodded to Amy. They would do this. With Rory's help and the lens, they found the younger Amy's time stream and synchronized both of the girls' thoughts. They were able to bring them into the same time stream. Both Amies looked at each other and went "oh my god."

The younger Amy, on the other hand, hugged onto Rory with relief. She had such a bright smile. This was just weird to both the older Amy and to the Master.

"Should we get the Master as well?" Rory asked.

"No need," the Master told him. "What is thirty-two years to a Time Lord?" His lips curled with a certain cynicism to it. The Doctor had trouble making out what he was thinking, and then he had trouble making out anything at all as Rory's glasses began to malfunction.

"Rory! The glasses can't handle the feedback from both time streams meeting. You need to take the glasses off," he shouted to him. "Get to the TARDIS."

It was the last they heard from the Doctor. It didn't help that the Handbots had found them. They would have to fight their way out, at which Rory and the younger Amy were rather useless. Rory led them to the hall where the TARDIS had been parked, but there was a small army of robots to be mowed down before they got there. The younger Amy was hit by one of the Handbots' tranquilizers.

"Take her and get into the TARDIS!" the older Amy yelled at Rory. "All of you."

Rory and the younger Amy ran in first. The Doctor was at the door, waiting for them. When the Master was within reach, he took him by the hand and pulled him inside before he slammed the door.

"Amy!" Rory called out. "Doctor, you can't do this!"

"You promised her," the Master snarled. But he wasn't surprised.

"You didn't think I would actually let you do that horrible thing to my TARDIS again?" the Doctor asked. "It's wrong, is what it is. Just wrong. I am sorry, but there can't be two of Amy."

"No, I didn't expect you to," the Master assured. "I didn't expect anything."

"Master..."

The older version of Amy was banging at the door and calling out.

The Master shook his head at the Doctor. Over the years he had looked at the Doctor with contempt, frustration and a number of other negative emotions, but never before had he looked at him with disappointment. It stung.

"There is nothing else I can do," the Doctor tried to defend himself. "Nothing. Rory will have to choose." It was painful to him as well. Even more so when he heard the older Amy start crying.

"Leave. Just leave now," she told them. "I knew this was too good to be true." She sank down along the TARDIS' door to sit on the floor. "So just leave, before I break the door down and make Time and Space collapse, yeah?"

Rory looked to the Doctor, pleading. The Amy out there was just as much his Amy. The Master, on the other hand, knew very well which one he preferred. He pressed himself to the door with gritted teeth.

"Amy. You soldiered on like no one else. I won't forget it."

Amy sniffed and leaned her head against the door of the TARDIS. "No. You and I did," she said. "Thank you. Thank you for everything."

"You too," the Master muttered.

The Doctor and Rory were mystified as they watched this emotional farewell between the two. The Doctor collected himself and got the TARDIS moving before it became any more difficult to leave. Rory was broken, but he went over to his Amy and picked her up to take her to bed. She was still out, and he wasn't looking forward to explaining to her.

The Master was still sitting by the door once they were adrift in deep space. A little over three decades had left more of an impression that he thought it would.

"Master."

He looked up.

The Doctor kneeled down next to him. He knew that a lot of damage had been done during this time, but he also just witnessed the Master's most humane moment so far. "We can still go back and get you," he said. "You don't have to live with this."

"No. I looked after her. I did something good and you are not taking that away because it doesn't suit you."

"Alright, alright," the Doctor assured. "We won't. You still look young and pretty, hm?" He dared to try and stroke a hand over the Master's hair. He was relieved not to find himself pushed away. They could work this out. "Young, pretty, sexy thing. You're a beauty. Did I ever tell you that?"

"Hmph." The Master was reluctant. After a minute, he let his head lean against the Doctor, who put an arm around him.

"Did you ever lose faith?" the Doctor whispered, his hand stroking the Master's back. "Did you start hating me as well?" They could work it out if he did. They had done so before, they could do it again.

"Never."

Now the Master was clinging onto him and they were in a sudden, intense embrace.

"I just sometimes forgot that I didn't."

"Of course you did," the Doctor mumbled into the Master's shoulder. "It's fine. Everything will be _just_ fine."

"I missed you." The Master was choking up and hating himself for being so weak. It didn't help that he had known Amy a lifetime, and the Amy travelling with them didn't remember any of it. He was so furious with the Doctor for making him go through this, but he was all too happy that it was over. He was vulnerable and he didn't care if the Doctor exploited it with the intension of an unusual tender night to mark their reunion.

*

"You owe me one," the Master told the Doctor when they were at the TARDIS console the next morning. "And it will involve bending over." He had gotten considerably better after some intensive care from the Doctor throughout the night. He was back to his snide, potty self.

Amy and Rory appeared after breakfast, Rory yawning. Amy was a little odd when she saw the Master, knowing what he had done for her.

"Hello," she said, awkward.

"Morning," the Master said without interest. He focused on driving the TARDIS.

"Hey, I know I don't remember any of it, but it was big what you did for me there," she said with some uncertainty. She didn't imagine over three decades with the Master would be entertaining. "Thanks?"

"I did it because the Doctor asked. Move along, Pond." He didn't need to start caring for her all over again. It wasn't the same Amy.

They landed in what appeared to be an Earth hotel from the 80s. It was alien. Someone had put great effort into making it look like a hotel from the 80s, but nothing was Doctor-proof. There was a Minotaur wandering the halls and there were people to save. Not to mention the TARDIS got lost almost the moment they stepped into the space hotel.

It, like everything else, worked out in the end, but not without them having to face their worst nightmares inside designated hotel rooms. Amy saw herself as a child, the Doctor saw himself and Rory saw nothing at all. The Master, well, he saw himself with the opportunity of being victorious ruler of all Time Lords. He was annoyed by this for quite some time, while the Doctor ran around in the background and tried to save people. By the time he realized that his greatest desire in conquest would probably cost him the one person he cared for, the Doctor had failed miserably.

They had the TARDIS back, but too many had been killed in the process. Not to mention it was getting late for the Doctor, and he knew. The fun was over, the Master supposed.

The TARDIS landed and the Ponds were the first ones to run outside to see where they were. It was good old England and a nice, big house with an expensive car parked outside. It was theirs. This was where they took farewell. Amy and Rory were taken aback, but the Doctor was adamant. He wouldn't risk their lives further and he hugged them both in turn and said goodbye. The Master actually hugged Amy, but he said nothing to either of them. He was the first one to stomp back into the TARDIS and pretend not to be touched.

The Doctor joined him in a moment. The Master was leaning over the dashboard with a frown.

"I suppose I am next," he said. His question was met by silence. "I knew you wouldn't take me along when it came down to it." The Doctor wasn't even giving him a chance to fix this.

"There is nothing you can do. Trust me," the Doctor said after a moment of consideration. He went up to the Master and put an arm around him. "I have to do this. But there is somewhere I want to take you first. One last trip for poor old me and you, what do you say?"

"It's not going to be one of those where you go 'just one more trip' and we get tangled up in a big mess and suddenly it's been ten and twenty trips, and in the end everything just goes back the way it was, is it?"

"I... I am afraid not. Not this time," the Doctor said. "Maybe next time?"

"Don't even try," the Master warned him. There wouldn't be a next time. There had always been a next time; they had never stopped chasing after each other and a world without the Doctor was impossible. Surely it would rather implode upon itself than be void of Doctor. It was going to take time before this sank in.

The Doctor took him to Venice during the renaissance. Being their last trip, it wasn't meant to turn into a huge clusterfuck of saving the world. They were careful to avoid the fish and Casanova (because the Doctor still didn't have a chicken to pay him back), and other than some assassins running about, it was a fairly quiet stay.

He had given them two weeks together, rented a house and really gone all out to make it special in a non-dangerous way. The Doctor had meant it to be fun. He'd even dressed up for the era, but there was no making the Master smile because no matter how nice it might be to snuggle down every evening in silk sheets in front of an open balcony in Venice, they couldn't get by that this was the last time.

"It was meant to last forever," the Master murmured. It was their last night. He hadn't said much during their whole stay and they definitely hadn't talked about what was going to happen. The Doctor had hoped they would keep it that way.

"Everyone has to die at some point," he said. He was still desperately trying to think of ways to escape his fate, but the Master didn't need to know how scared he was. He'd spent the last days holding onto the other Time Lord and he still was. "Think of all the fun things you can do without me to hold you back." It was a feeble attempt at cheering him up. The Master didn't respond to it.

"Death shouldn't have to be the end."

"Master." The Doctor sat up. "There is something I want to give to you. A parting gift, if you will."

"Don't," the Master sighed.

The Doctor took the Master's hand and put something in his palm. "This is probably a terrible idea, but I will be dead before this comes back to bite me in the ass, so what do you say?"

The Master looked down at the key in his hand. A key to the TARDIS. He had finally gotten his own key to the TARDIS.

"I can't..."

"It's yours. You have earned it."

The Doctor embraced him once more. It was a long, painful night for both of them, and when morning arrived there was silence. All but one thing had been said, and neither could find it in them. The Master asked to be left at the beach in Utah. The Doctor was reluctant, but he couldn't turn down the Master's last request. And so he was off to do the rest of his goodbyes while the Master witnessed his death once more. At a safe distance he watched them burn the Doctor's body. It smouldered to ash, taking with it the best times of his life.

*

Some had perhaps wondered would occur when a fixed point in time did not happen as intended. Those who still existed were in the process of finding out. Everything was happening at once as history folded and collapsed upon itself. River had refused to kill the Doctor and it was now 5:02 p.m. at the 22nd of April 2011 until reality could no longer bear it.

The Doctor, now with a full on bushy beard after being kept locked up for so long, was brought down from his cell in the palace tower and forced down on his knees in front of the Holy And Eternal Ruler of the Universe. Also known as the Master.

"Have you come up with a satisfactory answer yet?" he asked.

"I told you," the Doctor said. "About the fixed point in Time."

"And how we used to travel Time and Space together. _Likely_ ," the Master laughed. He was leaning on his desk with a clock in hand. "This is all wrong," he murmured to himself. "The fixed point in time, perhaps..." He glanced to the Doctor. "I remember things." He sat the clock down and began circling the Doctor with his hands behind his back.

"You do?"

"Fighting. You and me. That's all there is; fighting, fighting, fighting, fighting."

"If you would just try and remember," the Doctor pleaded.

With no warning, they were suddenly somewhere else. They were in a large hall and the Doctor was wielding a sword, the Master his screwdriver. Their arms were decked with tally marks.

"What..."

"The Silence," the Doctor said. He was breathless and wary. "They must be here. We fought them together once, do you remember?"

And instant later they were further down the hall and with considerably more tally marks. They had realized too late that the ceiling was one large nest of Silence and would have been dead if it wasn't for Amy's timely rescue.

"Sleek," the Master commented to her outfit.

"Who's he?" Amy demanded.

"He's coming with us, is what he is."

Amy had an office inside a train. That was simply too cool. The Master and the Doctor alike couldn't imagine why they hadn't thought of that. It was starting to come back to the Master. Amy had remembered, Rory was even around even if she didn't recognize him and then there was River. Of course, goddamn River. If having the Doctor shave his beard wasn't enough to make the Master remember, she was. Hate came very naturally to him.

The train took them out to Area 52, which was now somehow a pyramid but never mind that, it was full of trapped Silence that weren't so much trapped as they were simply a trap. The Master hated it when that happened. But River and the Ponds had prepared a plan, a device on top of the pyramid that they hoped would fix Time without the expense of the Doctor's life. The Doctor wasn't buying any of it.

"River, there is no avoiding it," he said, and now he was angry. "You are going to have to shoot me. I know it's difficult, but this isn't negotiable."

"But I love you," River said. Her eyes were red and full of tears.

"And your love for me is worth more than all of existence, is it now? I don't think so," the Doctor said.

"It is," she insisted.

"As much as I despise admitting it," the Master said. "We have to try. We have a chance here at saving you."

"No, we don't." The Doctor paced about in frustration while the Ponds, the Master and River watched.

"Right." The Doctor stopped and turned on his heel to face River. "Right, if this is how it is. I need a bit of cloth, actually, no." He undid his bowtie. "River, come here."

"Oh _no_ , you don't," the Master sneered. Everyone else was confused, but he knew what the Doctor was planning. He walked right up to him and grabbed the Doctor by the front of his coat. "You are not doing this to me, not now."

"What matters is that we get time unstuck and I need River to cooperate with me."

"I don't care if I have to brainwash her into killing you," the Master said. "If you have to die, you aren't betraying me the last thing you do. It might not matter to you, but you're not going to be her dead husband."

The Doctor slowed down and actually considered what he had been about to do. "You'd rather...?"

"Of course, you blundering idiot."

The Doctor furrowed his brows. "But..."

"What's going on?" River asked. The mention of marriage hadn't exactly put her less on edge. Her eyes were red from crying, but now they were almost hopeful.

"I am just asking you not to marry her!" the Master exclaimed. "Is that too much?"

"Oh." The Doctor was fidgeting with the bow tie, absolutely blushing. "For a moment there I thought _you_ wanted to have the dead husband. Well obviously, who wouldn't, but you know you never would have said that out loud, and you didn't, so it's all fine."

The Master stared at him. " _What_?" He narrowed his eyes. "You were just about to marry River. Is there even a tiny bit of sense in that strange mind of yours?"

The Doctor cleared his throat and looked to River. "Sorry about this, but I might be about to break your heart." He turned back to the Master, but had a quick look back at River again. "You probably will deal better with it than him, anyway," he said and started to tie the end of the bowtie around his own hand. "And it makes perfect sense," he added with annoyance at the Master. "Don't want to die without marrying in the Time Lord way, would I?"

"You don't even trust me," the Master scowled.

"Master, I absolutely, definitely do not trust you, you are insane and unpredictable and angry and vengeful and dangerous. But it doesn't matter, because I love you, and that's enough, isn't it? You didn't honestly think we would ever trust each other?"

The Master was taken aback. At the same time he found himself agreeing, after some consideration. "Not in all of Time," he sighed and tied the other end of the bowtie around his hand.

"Wait," River protested. "What are you...?"

"Short version, I'm afraid. You're fine by that, Master?" the Doctor asked.

"Very short, considering neither of us has parents any more to consent and all that," the Master huffed. So there wasn't much in the way of vows, but it was the act that mattered, even if the Master didn't expect the Doctor to behave any better once they were married. It was fine, so long as the Doctor didn't expect _him_ to behave.

The moment arrived when they should have told each other their names, but they never got that far. River refused to sit quietly and watch. She called out in protest and grabbed the Doctor's hand. Time unstuck and everything around them unravelled itself and flew back into the right order.

So there he was, the Master all by himself at the beach with a piece of blue cloth around his hand. There was a distant shout from the beach. The Doctor was telling him that he was sorry.

The Master watched the Doctor's death and funeral from afar and something inside his head clicked back out of place. It began as simply remembering the Doctor's heartbeat from all the nights they had fallen into each other's arms. Then it never stopped.

He wouldn't allow this to be the end. There was always a solution and there would always be a Doctor. The noise was maddening and there was no extent he wouldn't go to in order to have what he wanted. Pulling out the key to the TARDIS, he turned around and walked away from the beach.

The TARDIS materialized before him and he pushed the doors open and ran to the console. Frantic, he began to pull levers and twist dials, running around the console as he piloted it by himself for the first time in a very, very long while.

"Come on, I know you too well. You liked torturing yourself too much to close it just like that..."

His actions had activated a security code in the TARDIS. A hologram of the 10th Doctor was projected. " _If you see this, I am dead and you're about to do something very, very stupid. And if I am not dead, stop being a dick and untie me. You can't go back, not to stay, you will rip both universes apart if you do._ "

The Master scoffed. "If it was Eleven who left this message, it would only say ' _Geronimo_ '." His teeth were gritted as he fought the TARDIS. It didn't want to cooperate. It wanted anything other than to punch a hole in the universe but the Master had found Gallifrey and he was going back. Tears were splashing down on the dashboard as the Master and the TARDIS rocketed through Time and Space until finally, with a loud _bang_ , they ripped through the fabric of reality and appeared above a shining amber planet.

The TARDIS was empty and silent. It drifted through space without its Doctor. There was only the Master and one constant, repeating noise; _one_ , _two_ , _three_ , _four_. _One_ , _two_ , _three_ , _four_.


	4. The Master Factor

The Master had never forgotten what life was like before the Doctor and he began to, putting it delicately, get along. He'd had his fair share of fun; then that nosy do-gooder came along and ruined a long line of perfectly good plans. The Master had never thought he would miss the Doctor this much.

Actually, the Master hadn't gotten around to missing him yet. He was still in denial and he wasn't feeling anything. The only mental progress that had taken place since the Doctor's death was remembering how boring Gallifrey was. He hadn't even spent a day in this alternate dimension's Gallifrey before he was off an out in the universe with the Doctor's TARDIS to a glorious new campaign of scheming and wrecking havoc. No way was he staying on Gallifrey with his alternate self running about and being some important ass in the Council. The "Architect" had done well for himself, and the Master got sick simply by staying in the same solar system. His personal opinion was that the Architect was a bumbling old fool whose only positive streak was his resemblance to Francis Bacon.

The Doctor of this dimension was nowhere to be found. No doubt dashing about and saving the Earth (after all, there had to be things other than Daleks threatening that miserable excuse for a planet). No doubt they would run into each other eventually. The Master had yet to decide what he would do, once that happened. He was sort of dreading the encounter, but he couldn't stay away from Earth. He was caught between wanting to see the Doctor and wishing to watch the man's beloved planet burn.

The TARDIS landed on a space station that would oversee the death of Earth as the sun expanded. How fitting to go from one funeral to another. Closure? Absolutely not. Nostalgia and some destructive glee; definitely. He stood before the massive window that overlooked Earth with one hand pressed to the glass pane. The planet was empty now, he knew. At least the Doctor couldn't have scolded him too much for taking joy in its destruction.

People were going in and out of the room, but no one bothered him. It hardly took any effort to manipulate them into thinking he was allowed there. Voices talked and he wasn't paying attention, until one word in particular made his stomach lurch.

"... _Doctor plus one. She's my plus one._ "

The Master turned his head and looked. He scrunched his nose. It didn't feel or smell like the Doctor, but that was clearly because this was an alternate dimension. A far greater problem was that it definitely didn't _look_ like the Doctor. He had the psychic paper though, as well as a stupid monkey companion. This time it was some blond girl with a scary big mouth. If this was a later regeneration, Eleven should be damned grateful that he had died permanently.

As much as the Master wanted the Doctor back, this wasn't _his_ Doctor. He couldn't see him for the hammering noise in his head and he turned back to look at the Earth, hating how the two giggled and chattered on like old women at a tea party. _Of course_ the Doctor would think it romantic to take a girl to see her planet burn. He rolled his eyes, debating on leaving before he did something he would regret.

Before the Master could make a decision and avoid any incidents, the Doctor caught the Master off guard, slapping a hand down on his shoulder.

"You're a Time Lord! Not here to apprehend me, are you? If you've taken an interest in Earth, I'm afraid you dropped in at a bad time. Or do you come to this planet often?"

The Master's lips curled with dismay as he looked into the face of this other Doctor. Big ears, big nose and a big, stupid grin. "Apprehend you? Now, why would I ever."

"Oh, now and then the Architect sends someone to drag me back to Gallifrey. I'm the Doctor," he said, offering his hand.

"Ah. The meddlesome time meddler," the Master said, slightly confused but supposing the Doctor was as renowned as always. "I am the Master." There was still pride in that title somewhere, and maybe he was throwing the Doctor somewhat off with his frigid tone. "And being apprehended doesn't worry you?"

"No, no," the Doctor assured. "They give me a slap on the wrist and I make my escape, off to meddle some more. Fantastic system, isn't it? I'm surprised you haven't heard."

"Fantastic indeed," the Master said darkly. That wasn't at all the Time Lords he was familiar with. On another note, he had thought that the Architect and the Doctor were a thing. "You knew him personally, didn't you?"

"Me? Well, you could say that. But he's all government and rules. Way too boring for me," he said and stifled a yawn. "What about you? What are you doing out here?"

"Observing." The Master was distant, watching the companion as she ran around on her own and talked to people. "Who's the human?"

"She's Rose Tyler. Travels with me. We just met after fighting off some plastic. Living plastic. That's not something you see on Gallifrey. Don't see why the Architect would miss out on that."

The Master let out a snort. "No, I can't see why. I had my own run-in with those aliens a long while ago." And he and the Doctor had cooperated by the end of the day. Up until the point where the Master had tried to run him over with a bus, naturally. God, he missed that man. Hearing the Architect was not part of the equation any more, the Master was starting to consider. "Been travelling for a very long time, have you?"

"A very long time," the Doctor confirmed.

"Seen much trouble, I bet."

"I should say. I'm number Nine."

"I see." The wheels in the Master's head were turning in time with the noise. It grew into a hammering orchestra of drums when he looked at Rose. The Doctor had just met her, but was feeling responsible for her. She would be his ticket into the Doctor's good graces.

Currently she was having an argument with Cassandra, the Last Pure Human. The Doctor and the Master regarded her in silence, until they both spoke up at the same time.

"Not very clever is she?"

"Brilliant, isn't she?"

Both cleared their throats and pretended like that hadn't happened. The empty space inside the Master was starting to fill with all the joys and hopes of breaking this foolish, innocent Doctor down like a hammer to fine porcelain. He would savour every second of it.

"I suppose she has her charm. She sure looks as if she adores you already."

"Oh, well." The Doctor rubbed at the back of his neck. It wasn't difficult to see that he was pleased with himself. Silly Doctor. He had no idea he was going to ruin any chance of Rose leading a normal life, only to turn Martha into a weapon and then lose Donna to some random guy in a library. Imagining all the other companions that the Doctor had lost, the Master almost felt pity for him. Pity for all the ways he was going to exploit the Doctor's broken hearts. He would never have _his_ Doctor back, but this one would make due for some time; after a few adjustments.

"I'll leave you to it, shall I?" the Master asked with a wide smile. "There may be a few more people who desire air from your lungs. A sensual gift, indeed."

"You'd like some, would you?" the Doctor asked with that stupid grin of his. He was failing to notice the over-the-top predatory look in the Master's eyes. The Doctor wouldn't have any air left in his lungs by the time the Master was finished with him.

"Some other time, Doctor. But rest assured I'll leave you breathless at one point in the future."

The Doctor appeared mildly puzzled, but the Master knew he wasn't all _that_ ignorant. He wandered off, seemingly about to greet the other attendants while in fact he was looking for Rose. This Doctor had obviously never suffered at his hand before. He had experienced the end of a relationship, but he hadn't had a proper nemesis. Hadn't even fought the Daleks to the same extent as the proper Doctor had. The Master could only presume that the Daleks had never gotten as far as to acquiring time travel, and that was why the Time War hadn't destroyed Gallifrey in this dimension. It had done the Doctor a whole world of good, leaving him naïve and kind compared to the other Doctor. The Master would rectify that.

He wandered off with his hands in his pockets, humming a certain song from when he'd been carting an old Doctor around in a wheelchair. Trust the Doctor to appear when Earth was about to be incinerated. The Master ignored the other guests, as opposed to the tiny robots skittering about with evil intentions. Someone was up to something, as always. The Doctor would handle it, but the Master would use the situation to his advantage. There wasn't much to do with a dying planet, so he was certain that these robots were after the lives of those on the space station.

With a good idea of what was going to happen, the Master smirked to himself when he spotted Rose all by herself. The Doctor had let her wander. First rule, he thought to himself with a silent tsk. She was in a hallway with a view of the planet, phone in hand. It was a stupid idea for a date, showing her how the world would end (unless of course you were the Master, who had rather thrived in showing Lucy such horrors).

"Savouring your planet's death spasms?" he asked. Rose looked up and made a face. Or perhaps she was simply born that way. In either case, she was both disturbed and enthralled by the situation. "I suppose he could have found a better place to take you for your first trip."

"I don't know," she said. "It's so weird, you know? Do you know I just called my mum, all the way back in the 21st century? She's dead, but I spoke to her just now."

"You talk as if it's horrifying that she's dead at this point in time. I would be horrified if she wasn't. Humans aren't meant to last forever." The Master walked up next to her. Rose stared for a while at the phone before putting it back in her pocket.

"I guess it's all the same to you," she said with a sniff. "You don't know what it's like. You're used to it. You're like him."

The Master brushed his knuckles over the front of his jacket. "In less ways than you imagine." The silly girl was staring at the Earth. Soundlessly the Master fished the phone out of her pocket.

"I'm just wondering about all the places he could take me," she said. "I could go anywhere I like and be back when I left. The day before, even."

"And you think you'll be able to just stop and go home?" the Master mused.

"I guess that's why you keep going, isn't it?" she asked. "You and him, you just travel like this all your life. That must be brilliant."

"Mhm. Keep imagining that," the Master said. He was on his way down the hall.

"Hey, where are you going?" she called after him.

"People to see," the Master replied before he was gone around a corner. First step of the plan had succeeded. The second part would be far more difficult. He did not like to rely on chance, but there was a certain thrill to it. A cruel idea came to his mind; something that would keep him occupied until it was time. He took the phone out, as well as his screwdriver.

While he worked, the Doctor and Rose had found themselves what was as close to a balcony as the space station could provide. The room consisted of a small tribune and a huge window with a view of the Earth. The Master interrupted some doubtlessly deep and engrossing conversation as he joined them.

"Still following us around?" Rose asked, giggling with all her teeth showing. The Master arched a brow at her.

"Enjoying the sights," he said with sarcasm. "The Steward would like a word with you, Doctor. That is all."

"Oh, alright then?" the Doctor said. "Rose, if there's anything, you just get hold of me." He strolled off, unknowing that he was about to discover a murder scene. The tiny robots had burnt the Steward to a crisp a short while ago. Who was the Master to deny the Doctor the glory of such a discovery? He smirked down at Rose.

"Just the two of us again, then." He sat down next to her and leaned back, looking up at the Earth. "Not a lot of Time Lords have been interested in this planet of yours. Didn't appreciate it myself, until I met the Doctor." His eyes shone, but with far darker intensions than what Rose could tell. She wasn't sure about having him this close.

"You Time Lords sure run around a lot."

"Can hardly sit still," the Master assured. "He's not interested in watching Earth burn. Very entertaining the first time around, but you can only watch so many planets die before it becomes a bore."

"Hey, that's my planet you're talking about," Rose complained.

"And? It's not as if you live on it any more. By now, the last _real_ human is that patch of skin down the hall."

Rose was getting pissy. She was right where the Master wanted her, so he said nothing more. It was time to distract the Doctor. "I'll leave you to it. Make sure you wave goodbye when the Earth is incinerated," the Master said cheerfully. He had already slipped Rose's phone back into her pocket, so he might as well be on his way.

"You're right, you're not like him," Rose huffed. "He'd show some understanding."

The Master rolled his eyes and left the observatory. The door closed behind him. He casually flicked out the laser screwdriver and melted the lock without anyone being the wiser. It should be starting soon, and now all he had to do was wait.

The Doctor had captured one of the spider robots, which he was interrogating the guests about. The space station had begun to malfunction. It was getting hotter. Everyone was growing nervous, too busy with their own problems to notice the sound of burning walls. The Master smiled as he heard Rose's muffled cries from the observatory. The solar shield was going down. It wasn't long before his own phone rang and he picked it up with a grin.

" _Doctor, help!_ " he heard Rose crying out from the other end.

"Not the Doctor, sadly," said the Master. "I locked your phone so that all your calls will be rerouted to me. I could take a message for the Doctor, if you like, though I can't promise it will be in verbatim."

" _What the—? The shields are going down!_ " Rose yelled. " _Master, help me, please_ ," she begged.

"I do enjoy it when people use my name," the Master murmured. "If you'll excuse me, the Doctor just lost his companion and will be in need of consolation." He hung up. After pocketing his phone, he put on his best frightened expression and ran out to the other guests. He joined the Doctor, making sure he was directing the man away from the observatory. A watchful eye on the clock told him just when to bring the Doctor over to the melted door, through which they could watch as the last remnants of Rose was fried to ashes.

The Doctor stared in mute horror and sank down to his knees.

"Doctor, I know, but we have to restore the shields," the Master said. He got down next to the Doctor and took him by the collar. He managed to look honestly upset. "There was nothing you could do. We have to make sure no one else dies."

The Doctor didn't make a sound. His face went hard and cold as it did when he was masking his emotions. Grief and guilt would have to tear him apart later. The two of them ran down to the bowels of the space station where some massive fans were separating them from the controls of the automatic restore system. The Master grabbed hold of the searing hot lever that slowed the fans, while the Doctor leapt through the whirring metal blades. Idiotic construction if ever there was one. Their architect must have played too many videogames.

The Doctor reached the switch that restored the shields. By the time he made it back, the Master had severe burns on his hands and was panting hard.

"I'll be fine. I'll be fine," he assured and wiped sweat from his forehead with the unharmed back of his hand. The Doctor grabbed his hands to examine them. The Master definitely took some sick pleasure in this care. The loss of Rose could sink in now that they were safe, and the Doctor channelled it all into worry.

"You were great," the Doctor said. His expression was stern as he examined the Master's hands. "I'm sorry about this, I really am." He was crumbling. The Master furrowed his brows.

"You knew her for a day."

"She died because of me. I took her out here, and she died just like that. I've never been so careless before."

The Master hooked his arms over the Doctor's shoulders, careful of his burnt hands. They stung, but he was hugging the Doctor again. Not his Doctor, but it was a small consolation. "No one can have a flawless record, now can they?"

The Doctor flinched. Apparently, when it came down to human lives, a flawless record was the only acceptable record to the Doctor. The Master was delighted to imagine the Doctor was now silently vowing never to bring a human with him again.

"She was so young, and we just started out. There was so much I was going to show her."

The Master stroked the Doctor's back with the side of his hand. "I know, but you told her about the risks," he murmured. "You always let them know about the risks." It was strange, but the Master rather missed Amy and Rory. At least they had been capable of taking care of themselves. They'd never have fallen for such a basic trap.

"What were you even doing here?" the Doctor asked, once he had pulled himself somewhat together. He seemed embarrassed to have shown his grief so openly, but he was no mind of steel like the Real Doctor had been.

"Remembering someone I lost," the Master replied quietly.

"I'm sorry. Is it long ago?"

"Very recent. Far too recent."

Now it was somehow the Doctor comforting the Master. Who else could comfort him, really? No one but the Doctor could ease the loss of the Doctor. Hadn't this incarnation been less appealing to him, the Master would have taken full advantage of the situation. He'd have broken this man into the floor and taken all the comfort he needed, but he was not that desperate yet. This incarnation had some charm; the Master could definitely get behind the leather clothing, but he would wait. Perhaps for a familiar face.

"Where do you plan on going?" the Doctor asked. The hug had gotten uncomfortably long for him.

"I am not sure," the Master murmured. "Wherever chance takes me." He tightened his hold.

"You wouldn't...?"

The Master let go. "We should both be on our way before someone starts asking questions. I am sure you have a lot to deal with ahead of you, considering Rose."

The Doctor looked miffed at the Master's sudden change of tone. He was torn, not sure whether he wanted to get to know this strange but inviting man, or if he was unsettled by him. "I'm sure you know how to get hold of me if you change your mind."

"We'll see each other again," the Master promised before he walked away. He couldn't remember being this successful with his own Doctor. With hardly any effort he had murdered the Doctor's companion without leaving a trace of evidence behind. Rose's death boiled down to foul chance. The Master returned to the TARDIS, which was deeply displeased both with his presence and this other dimension.

"Bear with me," the Master gritted out. "You miss the Doctor too, and this is the only way to get him back." The ghost of the Doctor's touch still lingered, but it brought him nothing but bitterness, as did the TARDIS. They had shared too many memories in here. No, he would need to see the Doctor again soon, even if it was just Other Doctor. There were a few certain ways to get hold of him again without directly contacting him.

First on his list of priorities were his hands. These nasty burns would need time to heal, and in the meantime he would orchestrate a far larger scheme that was sure to call upon the Doctor's attention. He found himself a lower life form (in this particular case, the Slitheen), and assisted them in a large scale plot that would threaten all of Earth. There was no better place to wait for the Doctor than in London, and if he didn't show, well then the Master would have toppled the government that he, at this point, was very pissed at. Oh, he would be Prime Minister again, but not before he had levelled 10 Downing Street to the ground at least once. Wouldn't be any fun, otherwise. The Slitheen had no idea that the Master was planning their demise, so if the Doctor didn't show up, he'd at least have Earth. Either way he would come out on top.

It was good, being back in a position where he could be the big bad spider, holding all the threads and controlling everything. In his own dimension, everyone on Earth knew his face. Now he was once again the Master of disguise. To his delight, the Doctor appeared right on cue, without company. The Master watched him run about for a while, safely situated inside the TARDIS with a nice cuppa. The Doctor acquired the help of a Harriet Jones. He remembered her as his predecessor for Prime Minister. It was fine. For now, he would let the Doctor have his toys.

"Whores will have their trinkets," he snickered to himself as he pocketed the laser screwdriver and sauntered out of the time machine. He had parked outside 10 Downing Street, wherein the Doctor, Harriet and the Slitheen were chasing each other Benny Hill style. The Master ran in to help them, a last minute hero and saviour of the day. The Slitheen were under the impression that he was assisting them, but it was the Master who helped the Doctor decode the Slitheen's plan, and then got the Doctor and Harriet in safety within Downing Street's very own bomb shelter.

"We're trapped!" Harried cried out. "Even if they can't get at us here, how are we supposed to stop them? They will turn the Earth into radioactive waste before we have a chance to escape."

They all looked at each other in fear; the Doctor and Harriet genuinely so. The Master had grabbed a laptop with him from one of the other rooms, and he looked to the Doctor.

"I have an idea. It's not going to sound pleasant, but it's the only way to wipe out all the Slitheen and stopping a nuclear apocalypse."

The Doctor looked as if he was catching onto what the Master had in mind. He glanced to Harriet briefly, then nodded to the Master. "Should I?"

"I can handle it," the Master said and sat down with the laptop. He did so enjoy blowing things up. "You have been through so much, you don't have to do this." The Doctor looked embarrassed at this remark, but Harriet's enquiry got between any romantics.

"What are you going to do?" she asked the Doctor with wide eyes.

"We're firing a missile at 10 Downing Street."

"You're _what_?"

" _Oh_ yes." The Doctor was leaning over the Master with his face set as the Master hacked into the Royal Navy HMS _Taurean_ , a Trafalgar class submarine armed with non-nuclear missiles. "The missile will take out the entire building as well as the Slitheen. This room shouldn't be possible to breech."

"Should?" Harriet cried.

"Still, no worries, right?"

Harriet swallowed hard, but saw the necessity of such extreme means. The Master was a bit uncertain himself as to whether this had been a smart plan. Firing missiles at himself was, come to think of it, not his favourite pastime, but he had the Doctor watching him save the planet. As wrong as that felt, he wouldn't mind a chance at getting to first base.

"There." He pressed the launch button, then backed off. Now they could only wait.

"You showed up right in time," the Doctor said.

"I am sure you have managed far greater challenges without my help."

"Just got back from 1860, actually."

"And how did you enjoy that?"

"Well, Charles Dickens believes in ghosts, now."

Their eyes met right before the missile impacted. Everything shook and they were temporarily deafened. 10 Downing Street was reduced to rubble and there was a lot of mess and confusion before the two of them could sneak out from the ruin, avoid the media and find themselves out of breath some streets away, exhilarated but pleased, both for their own reasons. They were whole, and that was more than they had hoped for.

"Let's face it, though," the Master panted. "We have seen too much for _that_ to be the end of us. An explosion would be a far too boring way to go."

The Doctor had to laugh. He composed himself and looked at the Master with interest, perhaps even some suspicion. "Rather big coincidence that you should show up here, right as they invade."

"You would have managed either way."

"But you're here, and I'm here. In all of Time and Space, what are the chances of that? Were you following me?" the Doctor asked.

Still not a very trusting man, was he? The Master curled his lips in an indecisive smile, or sneer. It was hard to tell what he wanted it to be. It all boiled down to frustration, to loss. He wanted to be all cool and detached, but when he looked at the Doctor he saw the man he used to love. It wasn't the right face, but it was enough.

"What?" The Doctor was disturbed by how the Master scrutinized him. "Is there something on my face?"

"Only your huge nose," the Master snapped at him. Then he grabbed the Doctor by his equally huge ears and kissed him. It wasn't the same in the least, but it was fun how the Doctor spluttered and flailed. "Oh, don't give me that. It's not your first; I know you and the Architect were getting it on."

The Doctor would have said something, but the Master kissed him again, hard. As rough and demanding as the Master was, the Doctor couldn't be sure whether he was being kissed or devoured. He was still dumbfounded when the Master let go of him and made to leave.

"Hey!" the Doctor called after him. "What, did my huge nose get in the way?" he called after him with humour. The Master didn't react. The Doctor took a moment to consider before he followed after him. He had just rounded the corner in time to hear the noise of a dematerializing TARDIS, but he didn't see a trace of the machine or the Master. This game would continue, even if the Master could have kicked himself for his indiscretions.

Self-control. He had to find himself some self-control before he spoiled the game. The next trap would have to be elaborate, something he wouldn't want to spoil for the good Doctor. No, when he sent the TARDIS towards the future, it was with a specific and exceedingly ambitious goal in mind. It would be the Doctor's time to lose his head in awe when he saw what the Master had conducted for him and him alone.

*

It was an unthinkable amount of years into the future when the Doctor landed on Satellite 5, a TV station that filtered all the Earth's news. It consisted of exactly five hundred floors. He strolled out of his TARDIS by himself, with only a few adventures between now and the incident with the Slitheen. It was supposed to be exciting, seeing a whole new place and time. This age was meant to be the pinnacle of human achievement, but there was no human travelling with him to appreciate it.

After wandering the station for a while, discovering how they fed information through the human brain like a super computer and other pleasantries, he stopped by a window to look down at the planet. It should have been further developed by now. A reporter, named Cathica, had told him about Floor 500. Something sinister was definitely going on, but the Doctor's approach to the plot at hand was lacklustre at best. He had not been himself after suffering the death of a companion. He couldn't stop revisiting Earth after that.

"Fantastic."

That was _his_ word. The Doctor turned with a frown, which immediately disappeared when he saw the Master with his hands pressed to the glass pane and looking down at the planet.

"Out of all possible coincidences," the Doctor said, with a severe amount of suspicion this time. The Master grinned. He breathed against the glass and started drawing in the fog left behind.

"If we both keep hanging about poor planet Earth, we are bound to keep running into each other."

"And why would you 'hang about'?" the Doctor asked.

"Let's just say it has a lot of replay value." The Master watched his crude scribbles fade before he looked back at the Doctor and measured him up with his eyes. He honestly was disappointed every time he looked at the Doctor's current state. Nothing personal; he simply had a definite preference (as opposed to infatuation, a word he'd never use with a straight face). "You are still on your own. How long has it been? Have we done World War Three yet?"

"Which World War Three?" the Doctor asked.

"The Slitheen. I like to make up titles for my little escapades. I keep a diary."

"Oh. _That_ World War Three." If the Master didn't know better, he'd say the Doctor was flustered from remembering what had happened at the end of said _escapade_. "Yes. I had a few stops since then. Visited the man who owned the Internet back in 2012. Collector with a private museum."

"Yes, you always loved museums," the Master murmured, but quickly caught himself. "If I am one to guess. Encountered one of the _last_ Daleks, I presume?" There was always a last Dalek popping its ugly eyestalk up somewhere.

The Doctor snorted. "And where have you been the last few millennia? Skaro burned long ago. There hasn't been a Dalek around since ancient times."

The Master looked at the Doctor with curiosity. The Daleks may never have discovered time travel, but they were still sturdy and somewhat intelligent creatures. "The Emperor Dalek was never verified to be destroyed." This remark visibly displeased the Doctor, who stared down at the underdeveloped Earth with a bad feeling in his stomach.

"Even so, he'd need the help from someone pretty powerful and _really_ stupid to rebuild his empire."

"Makes you stop and worry at times though, doesn't it?" The Master digressed, but he decided that his plan was so stupid it was bordering on sheer brilliance.

"Are you going to tell me what you want?" the Doctor asked. He seemed frustrated with his inability to guess what was on the Master's mind. "What was it about, that thing last time?"

"Oh, come on. Live a little. We saved the world and you needed considerable cheering up. Now here you are, moping about again." The Master tsked. "I hear they have some really whacky milkshakes at the stalls. Come along, Doctor." It hurt a little to say that.

The Doctor didn't like being out-mysterioused. Besides, there were more important things than whacky milkshakes; he had just discovered an information point. He would have at it with his sonic screwdriver like he always did in hopes of discovering what was going on. When the Master returned with two milkshakes to breathe down his neck, he had brought up a map of the satellite.

"What have you discovered this time, Nancy Drew?"

"Something seems very off about the ventilation."

"I should say. The heat up here is melting the ice-cream float," the Master complained sadly. "I got a banana flavoured one for you." The Real Doctor had told him about that time he invented banana daiquiri a few centuries too early, and other banana-related jokes. The Master had supplied some banana-related ideas of his own, but those had quickly been turned down.

"Oh." The Doctor was positively surprised. "Fantastic."

"Mine's beef."

"The cooling system is somehow designed to shift all the heat upwards in the satellite, keeping the lower floors cool."

The Master peered at the screen. "Think of all the bodies you could stash in that big a freezer." The Doctor raised a brow, but he now seemed more concerned with getting to the bottom of this, literally. He twirled the sonic screwdriver around and strode over to the lift. "You should stay here."

"No way." The Master downed his shake and slipped in with the Doctor as the screwdriver forced the doors open. A moment later it was just the two of them, trapped in a tiny, moving box. Somehow, that made the Doctor a lot more attractive. It was clearly circumstantial, as the Master had told himself so many times to wait, but he still had these waves of grief whenever he looked upon the Doctor.

They stood in awkward silence for a while. The Master looked at the Doctor, who broke out into that idiotic smile of his. The Master resisted the urge to groan. There was a time when the Doctor had worn frilled shirts, velvet smoking jackets and a black Inverness cloak with red lining. That had been the first time the Master met him since academy days. And honestly, even the converse and the fez had been classier than this cheesy goofball. One point in Nine's favour, though; he didn't have question marks all over his shirt. It would have to do.

"If you don't kiss me now, I am going to slap that stupid grin off your face," he sneered. His mind was reeling with the conflict of emotion. The Doctor looked frozen in place, but the Master wasn't letting him off that easily. He shoved the Doctor up against the wall and clenched his fists in the Doctor's leather jacket. He was fighting not to ravish the Doctor right there. Their bodies were pressed together and he was looking up into the Doctor's eyes with intense desire, or possibly fury. He didn't know yet, but he wasn't stopping until the Doctor did something in return, anything.

The poor Doctor had no idea what was going on. How could he? He was an idiot. Not half the man that the Real Doctor had been. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. The Master could feel all grasp of reality slipping, and the Doctor was just letting himself be assaulted, staggered and confused.

"Is this why you keep following me?" he gasped as he felt the Master's hand on his thigh. It stroked upwards, brushed against his groin before it slipped around his hip to grab his ass firmly.

"I'd call you instead but that would seem bit desperate, don't you think?" the Master murmured. This Doctor was supposedly more experienced with this sort of relations than the Real Doctor had been at this point in time. The Architect had gotten there first. Less introductory work for him, the Master supposed. Something had occurred to the Doctor, though. It was staring him right in the face and he hadn't even considered it before now. He reached into the Master's trousers and made him squirm, though that was definitely not his intentions.

"Hey! No fair," the Master complained and grabbed for his phone, which the Doctor had fished out of his pocket.

"Why didn't Rose call?" the Doctor asked. He held the phone up and out of reach, pushing the Master an arm's length away.

"She was a stupid bitch, now give me that back!" He flailed a vigilant attempt at intercepting the Doctor from digging through his phone log, but it was too late. The Doctor had seen the call from Rose. The Master grabbed his phone back and stepped away.

"She called me. So what?"

"Why would she call you?" the Doctor demanded. "Right before she died, why would she call you?"

The Master shrugged. "I _am_ pretty handsome, you have to admit." So this Doctor was a _little_ clever. It wasn't paranoia if someone actually _had_ conspired to get your companion murdered.

The Doctor looked ready to fly at his throat. Right as the Master was about to panic, the doors of the lift opened. Far too much drama had taken place in the course of five hundred floors. He cleared his throat. "Saving the world now, remember?"

The Doctor strode past him and didn't bother to wait before venturing into the chilly ghost floor that awaited them. Skeletons were splayed out across tables where they had transmitted information until their very last breath. They were covered in frost, brittle from the cold. Some were fresher than others. The Master was not surprised; he knew what the Doctor was about to find and he knew what to do once the Doctor had been captured by the Editor-in-Chief.

The Master was naturally the one who had gotten the Mighty Jagrafess of the Holy Hadrojassic Maxarodenfoe stationed at Satellite 5. He had perhaps mentioned the Doctor and how it would be very clever indeed to kill him and take his TARDIS. Max and the Editor were ready for the Doctor. Sadly they were also under the conviction that they had the Master and the Daleks backing them. The Master went over to a circuit box in the hallway and stared at his watch for five minutes before he reversed the cooling system. He heard the shrill screams of Max.

The Master rushed in, only to find that Max had taken the Editor with him as he died. Too bad; the Editor had been rather hot. More importantly, the Doctor was in handcuffs and looking affronted.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"I saved your life," the Master made a point of replying. He burnt through the cuffs with his laser screwdriver. The Doctor rubbed his wrists. He did not look amused.

"You knew reversing the cooling system would kill Jagrafess."

The Master shrugged. "I improvised. That's what we— _you_ do. It's your thing, it's rubbing off. Maybe not enough, though. We can do some more rubbing if you—"

"You got Rose killed, and don't try to deny you had something to do with this," the Doctor thundered. Even this version of him sent shivers down the Master's spine when he got angry. Angry Doctor was always something. "I should drag your sorry arse back to Gallifrey and in front of a court."

The Master backed off, hands up and defensive. He wasn't putting the screwdriver away any time soon. The Doctor forced him further back still. "Look, it was only some harmless fun. If you want in, you just have to tell me."

"You enslaved humanity by television!"

The Master looked at the Doctor with shining ambition in his eyes, even as he backed off. "Think of all the good we could do if you and I enslaved _everyone_ , you and me together."

"I've had it with power-crazy men like you." The Doctor's voice was positively dangerous, now. The Master leapt back and into the lift, pressing the button. The doors closed just in time for him to send the Doctor a sad puppy look and a salute, and then he was on his way up. The Doctor was hammering at the elevator doors, but the sound grew distant. The Master sighed and leaned against the wall with closed eyes. This was a disaster.

On the plus side, there was no longer any point in behaving. The Doctor hated him, whatever he did. Hated, hated, hated, _hated_ him. The drums were growing louder, consuming him, or maybe it was heartsache. As if he would know the meaning of that word, he told himself with scorn. He would rather be mad than hurt, any day. Straightening his tie, he stepped out of the lift and marched quickly back to where he left his TARDIS. He struggled to unlock the door. It didn't want to let him in. It was growing increasingly displeased with him.

"I'm all you have left of him, alright?" he shouted at it and slammed his fist against the door. "And you're all I have, so suck it up and let me—" The door opened and he fell on his face. He didn't move. Everything had gone to shit. His shoulders shook and his nails scraped against the floor as he curled his hands into fists. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. A Doctor that hated him was better than no Doctor at all. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. He loved him, but he hated him for making him care so damn much. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. He would make the Doctor hurt for everything he had put him through. One, two, three, four...

The Master pushed himself up when he realized he was hearing footsteps. The Doctor was running for the open door of the TARDIS, and the Master got to his feet. The Doctor called after him, sonic screwdriver pointed towards him. The Master narrowed his eyes and closed the door, slowly. The Doctor ran into it right after the lock clicked. The Master let out a sigh. The Doctor should not have seen the TARDIS. He would know something was up. What were the chances that two TARDISes were both stuck permanently as British police boxes from the 60s? The Master hadn't had the hearts to fix it. Stupid move. Why did emotions have to be so compromising?

Angry, he knew he had waited long enough. He would _make_ the Doctor his, and he already had a plan. He wouldn't need to travel far, only a hundred years ahead and he would have access to everything he needed, right there on Satellite 5. The Daleks ought to be ready by then. While he arranged for this, he supposed the Doctor would simply be allowed some time alone.

*

The Master would have been a lot more worried if he knew that the Doctor's next adventure involved a tense World War Two adventure with Jack Harkness, and then going on a date with the last of the Slitheen. His jealousy would have known no bounds, so that was just as well. The Master was overcome by the need to have the Doctor back. He didn't care how many would have to die, in fact, a genocide or two would improve his mood considerably. This Doctor would soon have his first meeting with the Daleks in a very long time.

The Daleks picked the Doctor out of time and space on the Master's orders. They removed him from the TARDIS and beamed him right into one of the reality shows that were running on Satellite 5. At this point, the news station had evolved into a brilliant, brain-washing mass-production machine for trash telly. The Master couldn't have adored it more; they aired Teletubbies. That would never grow old, not even after four great and bountiful human empires. He also got to watch the Doctor be really out of place on Big Brother, until the Doctor got bored and went to presumably get himself destroyed. Instead, the Master got him teleported up to the control room.

The Master was watching over security cameras as the Doctor investigated the place, meeting the Controller, who tried to warn him that this was a trap. The Master was laughing as the Doctor only grew even more insistent on getting to the bottom of what was going on. He was getting closer to the observation room where the Master was sitting by the minute.

Everything would go down in the observation room. The Master had it all ready. He swivelled around in his chair, away from the many surveillance monitors and out to face the room, a big platform with mainly two things. There was the Real Doctor's TARDIS, and then there was the Other Doctor's TARDIS. This world's TARDIS was a little more worn. It hadn't been through the universe ceasing to exist and then being rebooted, nor had it burned and crashed in Amy Pond's garden. The Master had gotten it open and it had been like a nostalgic trip back to his adventures with the tenth Doctor. Marvellous.

The TARDISes were connected by a thick tube. The Master had exposed their hearts and linked them together through an intricate apparatus that would soon earn him a lot of points. He was grinning widely as the Doctor entered, watched his expression of disgust as he saw what the Master had done to his TARDIS.

"What have you done?" the Doctor said with fear in his voice, treading carefully over cords and tubes that littered the floor. "What have you _done_?" He put a hesitant hand on his time machine, then looked at the Master with big eyes. "Explain to me. Why are they the same, and what have you done to them?"

"There is something else I will show you, first," the Master murmured. He had the impression that this Doctor might be a little more violent than what he was used to. He wouldn't take any chances; he pressed a button on the dashboard behind him. The blinds that had covered up the massive panorama windows were opening up. "My project, since the whole affair with the Slitheen. I may as well tell you that I was behind that one, as well," he snickered. "I deserve some praise. Have you any idea how much trouble I had to go to in order to find a Dalek in this stupid universe?"

The Doctor's face changed into one of mute horror as the rising blinds unveiled the fleet strewn out in space. He hadn't seen a Dalek since his first incarnation, and at that time they hadn't even been able to move outside their city, let alone go off in space ships. It was undoubtedly their design, but it shouldn't have been possible. "How?"

"I scoured the universe until I found a few left, hidden away and desperately trying to rebuild their race." The Master slipped out of his chair and strolled casually towards the Doctor, yet with something definitely predatory about him. "And oh, they were _desperate_ , Doctor. Desperate enough to mix their DNA with whatever they came across, anything in order to survive. Over many, many millennia they were able to build themselves a fleet. The Dalek Emperor himself is still alive, still in control. All I had to do was point."

"And you pointed them to Earth," the Doctor sneered. "Would you honestly have all of humanity enslaved by these monsters?"

"Four hundred thousand Daleks," the Master said, looking through the windows and out over the fleet. "I might just like to see them enslave humankind, yes. Though of course, I have a solution to the situation. Better than _your_ idea."

The Doctor went tense. "You don't know anything, you have no _idea_. You can't have, not if you are insane enough to release these things upon the universe."

The Master shook his head and stuck his hands down his pockets. "You are already thinking of making a Delta Wave generator. You would rather fry the brain of everyone on Earth along with the Daleks than allowing the Daleks to win. Genocide. Two races, and yourself while you're at it." That was more like _his_ Doctor.

"Oh yes," the Doctor said through gritted teeth. "And I will take you with me. There is no way I am letting you endanger yet another race." He would struggle to do this, and the Master let him struggle in his moral dilemma and unfortunate fate for a while longer before he strolled over to the TARDISes. "Now, this brings back memories," he murmured. He had no idea what would happen if this little trick of his went wrong. He stroked the Real Doctor's TARDIS fondly. "I am doing this for you, Doctor. I drew the Daleks out in order to destroy them, for you," he said as he grabbed a lever that worked as a junction between all the cords and tubes extending from the two TARDISes.

"What are you playing at?" the Doctor asked, grabbing his arm. "I don't trust you for a second to have led the Daleks here with good intentions."

"Genocide _and_ a chance to have your forgiveness? How could I resist?" the Master purred and took the Doctor's chin and pulled his snarling face close.

" _Forgiveness_? How about asking forgiveness for all the people you have gotten killed? The Slitheen, Jagrafess, the Daleks; they were all because of you. No one could ever forgive you."

" _My_ Doctor will," the Master hissed, and he pressed the button on his screwdriver. The Doctor yelled as he was zapped, and he fell to the floor with cries of pain. The Master kneeled down next to him and put a hand on top of the Doctor's head. "If anything, that's what I would like forgiveness for. Not that I am sorry in any way," he said with affection in his voice.

The Daleks were breaking through the Earth's defences while the Master pulled the Doctor into his arms and whispered in his ear. "Chain-linked autodestruct. I made sure it was incorporated into their ships' design; all it needs is an impossible boost of power to activate and it will erase the Daleks from the very fabric of reality." He smirked, forcing the Doctor's head to turn towards the windows, even as he was dying. "Ridiculous idea, though. You would need something like a time vortex to power that. Maybe even two." He grinned and pulled the lever when he was sure the Doctor was watching.

The Dalek fleet unravelled. It disintegrated into dust before their eyes, and at the same time the Doctor began to emit wisps of golden light. The Master put him down and stepped back. His eyes were aglow as he watched the explosion of gold radiance that meant he would be getting exactly what he wanted. He held his breath as he watched the regeneration. He could have broken down on the spot when he saw a very familiar face take form, framed by light and so gorgeous.

The light faded, and on the floor was the tenth Doctor. The Master had to remind himself that this was the Doctor from an alternate universe and that he would never be the real thing, but this was a face that he had missed for an immensely long time. Ten had left him too soon. They had only been at the beginning of their time actually _together_ , and then the Doctor had to go and throw away his life for someone unimportant and expendable. The Master gritted his teeth with rage at the memory. And Eleven hadn't been better; just when some semblance of commitment had formed between them, his Doctor had let himself be killed. He would never forgive that. Now, he had someone younger and far less broken to mould and break as he wished.

He kneeled next to the Doctor, almost reverent in the way he carefully ran his hand through the Doctor's hair. Strange to feel it without any product in it. Used to be he couldn't touch the man's hair without getting all sticky, but he supposed they'd get to that when the Doctor had his strength back. The Master ran a finger down familiar features, following that impressive bone structure with a smile on his lips. "I could squeeze the life out of you," he whispered with affection.

The Doctor groaned. A puff of golden wisps escaped his mouth. He wouldn't be any use for a while. Of course, the Dalek threat was over, but the Master wasn't sure what he thought of leaving the Doctor here. He wouldn't take him along, that would never fly. The Doctor wasn't quite the type to get Stockholm's Syndrome, as delicious as that idea was.

The decision was made for the Master. At this point, the Real Doctor's TARDIS had taken enough of his crap. That, or something was calling it back to its own dimension. It was, at any rate, very disgruntled and ejected the cords and tubes with violent force. Its doors slammed shut and it disappeared. The Master stared. He was stranded. Stranded with an unconscious Doctor and no companions looking over his shoulder and making sure he didn't molest the Doctor on the spot. He bit his lip. Those leather trousers held quite some appeal, even if the Doctor was a stick and he didn't quite fit into them. They were too short, first of all. Way too short.

"And again I put my fate in your hands," the Master grumbled. "Getting really old, that." He scooped the unconscious Doctor into his arms as well as he could, and he half lifted, half dragged him into the remaining TARDIS. He left him on the floor while he disconnected the TARDIS from the intricate machinery, then he closed the doors and got working on putting the TARDIS back together. He knew how much the Doctor hated him tampering with his TARDIS.

This was not going according to plan. Shooting the Doctor and leaving him probably hadn't been the best of plans, but it had been a plan. Now he had to rely on the Doctor not kicking him out. Considering the circumstances, he actually wouldn't bet on the Doctor's bottomless hearts for this one. He didn't understand how the TARDIS could just leave him like that. With the Real Doctor gone, no one could possibly be more important than him. It was probably frolicking among the other TARDISes down on Gallifrey. The idiot Time Lords wouldn't know not to fix its chameleon circuit.

The Master would have complained that the TARDIS was the only thing he had left after the real Doctor, but then he would be lying in an attempt at hiding his sentimentality. With him he had the red diary that the Doctor had given him and the blue bowtie that had tied them together in marriage. He didn't know what he would have done if those things had been taken away from him along with the TARDIS.

In the end, even a machine had abandoned him. That aside, it would be a point in his favour if he took care of the Doctor. He sent a sideways look at the unconscious body next to him. The things he could do... But he would want the Doctor awake for it. After some moral debate (between naughty and seriously down-to-Earth evil), he helped the Doctor to bed. He couldn't make himself change the Doctor into pyjamas, because if he first started undressing him he wouldn't be able to keep his fingers to himself. Even now he was ogling the Doctor to the very extreme definition of creepy, letting his fingers brush against the face he loved so much. The Doctor wasn't reacting to any of his actions. He was out cold, on occasion letting out some quiet breaths of golden light.

The Master left them adrift in deep space, having nowhere he wanted to be than at the Doctor's side. When night came around, he curled up at the foot of the Doctor's bed if only because he could. He missed having the Doctor next to him, and now was his opportunity to be close without being chased away. It led to an embarrassing situation. When the Doctor woke up, he found the Master asleep with a half-empty cup of tea on the nightstand. Something was, without a doubt, very wrong.

"Hey!"

The Master woke with a start at the angry wakeup-call. He immediately scrambled to his feet and backed off when he saw how angry the Doctor was. "Morning," he said sheepishly.

"Oh, no. No, you're not seriously going to try that, after everything you've done," the Doctor said and rolled out of bed to poke one accusing finger at his chest. He was too infuriated to still be tired. "You. You..." Oh, _now_ the Doctor was more livid than the Master had ever seen him, struggling to put the rage into words. Rarely did the Doctor struggle with words.

"Look," the Master said with a certain degree of nervousness. "All I wanted was my Doctor back. I couldn't stand seeing you like, like _that_. It's hard to explain, but I just saved all of humanity and everyone else. The Daleks won't hurt anyone again, thanks to me. I deserve to at least have the benefit of the doubt."

" _Your_ Doctor?" the Doctor asked coldly. The Master swallowed hard.

"I can't tell you, but you're going to save me." After a moment, he added another admission he hadn't thought he had in him. "I _want_ you to save me."

"You killed me."

"See? It's a terrible habit and it needs fixing. To some extent."

"You _killed_ me!" the shouted, still affronted.

"It goes both ways, trust me," the Master said with raised brows and a wise nod for emphasis. "So, fixing, yes? I need a chance. I deserve to at least get a chance, and you're going to give it to me." Even if he was A-okay with being a genocidal lunatic, their relationship depended on the Doctor trying to make him into a better person. He watched the Doctor with great care as the Doctor stepped around him and went to leave. He halted only a moment in the doorway.

"One chance. Consider yourself lucky that's the kind of man I am."

"You have no idea," the Master sighed. It was indisputably the man he needed. He followed after the Doctor. "I can travel with you, then?"

"Why would you?" the Doctor demanded. "What happened to your own TARDIS? 'Yours' being debatable."

"It left," the Master said with undisguised shame. "It never liked me." With the Doctor gone he no longer bothered referring to it as "she". Probably another reason why it was pissed.

"If I get so much as one complaint about you, you are off this ship," the Doctor warned him.

"Aye, sir," the Master saluted. The Doctor had no idea he was like a chronic disease; there was no getting rid of him now.

*

It was with utter displeasure and disgust that the Doctor allowed the Master to come with him. He didn't say it, in fact he didn't address him if he didn't have to, but it was visible all over him. The Master didn't care. They would be fighting evil mechanical Santas or even werewolves, and the Master would catch himself in staring at the Doctor, recalling fond memories of scribbling math problems all over him. Also doing other things all over him, but sex was one thing. He'd easily get _there_ again. What he wanted was the man he loved, and he just didn't think that would happen.

He watched the Doctor dash about with all his enthusiasm and flair, but it wasn't the same. The Master had a hard time feeling anything for this copy other than frustration and sad recollection. Even reencountering Cassandra and having their bodies possessed by her didn't particularly reignite the spark. They still weren't talking when the TARDIS landed outside Deffry Vale School some time after the affair with Cassandra. Fighting, though; that was still on, even as they were walking out of the TARDIS.

"So I killed a few of the plague zombies, so what? They were about to infect us!"

"They were _people_ ; clones born in captivity and pumped full of every disease in existence. I was able to cure them and free them from their misery," the Doctor snapped back at him.

"They would have gotten us both killed. I didn't hear you complaining when I shot down the werewolf. If anything, you should be realizing how much more superior laser is to sonic," the Master replied and twirled his screwdriver between his fingers. The Doctor snatched it in mid-air.

"I am confiscating this."

"Oh, like Hell you are," the Master snarled and lunged at him. They struggled awkwardly, until the Master gave up. It wasn't as if he hadn't been without his screwdriver before, and maybe it would make the Doctor less wary of him. "Fine," he muttered, still glaring. He would comply, but he wouldn't be happy about it. He watched with longing as the Doctor pocketed the screwdriver. "Why are we here?"

"That's Deffry Vale School up ahead. Their physics teacher is about to win the grand prize in the lottery."

"So?"

"I thought I'd take up teaching," the Doctor said and put his glasses on. "Call me John Smith."

"Really." The Master was not amused, and the glasses were a cruel reminder of better times. "And what am I supposed to do?"

"I hear there's an open spot in the cafeteria."

Surely the Doctor's hatred for him knew no bounds. The Master had to really think about why he wanted to stay with the Doctor before he even considered helping him out. Something very wrong was going on at this school, and the Doctor wanted to investigate. Undercover, for a change.

"Oh, so you're not going to run around and pretend like a grown man in converse with a glowing stick is anything out of the ordinary? Doctor, I am shocked and appalled. Let me see you pull this one off."

"You have no idea what I am capable of pulling off," the Doctor said with a grin, and he left the Master in the hallway as he went to open his first class with the phrase "physics. Physics, physics, physics. Physics." The Master knew; he'd been peeking, because the Doctor playing teacher was hot. Then he resigned to the shitty cafeteria job and spent most of the time grumbling and mulling over how white wasn't his colour. The Doctor would never have trusted him on his own if he wasn't without his screwdriver, but after two days he was dangerously close to grabbing a meat cleaver and making the best of it. He could hear the knives singing to him in one very specific rhythm.

Thankfully, something happened before the Master made a mess. Someone else made a mess; a lunch lady bringing in a huge vat of something suspicious managed to spill it all over herself. She started burning and sizzling, and the other lunch ladies were quick to get her out of sight and denied that anything was wrong. This was when he went to find the Doctor, if only to bring an end to his Hell. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the Doctor speaking to some woman who was not on the teacher staff. He was grinning so widely he looked ready to split his head open like the moron he was.

"Don't you think it's weird; so many children going missing, and the abnormal test results," the woman whispered to the Doctor, who was not so much agreeing as going gaga over this woman. "I thought I had better look into it."

"Yes. Good for you, good for you," the Doctor said and smiled as she walked after Mr. Finch, the headmaster. "Oh, good for you, Sarah Jane Smith."

"And who is that?" the Master asked sourly. He might vaguely recall a companion by that name and looks, but the Doctor had dragged too many women into his TARDIS for anyone to bother keeping a count. He sure wasn't, and he sure as hell didn't care. "Why are you smiling like a retard?"

"No reason," the Doctor said, not even trying to hide it. "If you go near her, I will personally punish you for everything you have done." His smile vanished in favour of glaring at the Master over the top of his glasses. "You will beg for me to send you back to Gallifrey and let the Time Lords sentence you."

The Master glared right back at him. "I would like to see you make me beg," he murmured. This made the Doctor terribly ill at ease, and he made sure no one was looking before he hissed his reply back at the Master.

"Until you tell me who you are and why you insist on following me, I don't want to hear another word from you that isn't relevant."

"Sheesh, joykill," the Master said with a scoff before he left. Knowing the Doctor, he would be rekindling the flames of adventuring with Sarah Jane any moment. Perhaps he would do his own investigation and solve this, just to shove it up the Doctor's ass. The Doctor had looked so happy when he had spoken to her. The Master stalked off with his hands down his pockets and tried to recall where he had seen her before. He realized it was a very long time ago. She had been one of several companions he had met that day. The affair had been altogether awkward, all of those Doctors in one place. It hadn't turned out in his favour, as always, and he would rather not think about it. He just hoped he wouldn't have to see that bloody robot dog again.

He hid inside the school complex until it turned dark outside and the halls were vacant. Then he had a closer look at the vats of chemicals that had been brought in, and he made sure to fill a jar for later analysis.

In the meantime Sarah Jane had discovered who the Doctor was, and they had a heartsfelt yet bittersweet reunion. The Doctor didn't even think twice about fetching the Master to join in on their nightly investigation. Before they ran into each other, the Doctor and Sarah Jane had already discovered the alien teachers all nested up like giant bats hanging from the ceiling of the headmaster's office. The Master had found himself showered by a closetful of vacuum-packed rodents when the two came running, trying to put as much distance between them and the batmen as possible.

"Whoa, hey, what are you two doing here?" the Master asked with a snarl. He was covered in rats and he wasn't the least bit happy. Sarah Jane looked at the Doctor with a raised brow.

"Who's that?"

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Renegade Time Lord with unknown intentions?"

"What?"

"He's with me. You wouldn't know him. What do you suppose all these are for?" he asked, picking up one of the rats.

"They dissect them in science class," Sarah Jane said and offered the Master her hand. "Sarah Jane Smith."

"The Master," the Master replied without taking her hand. He'd rather sift through the rodents. "I'd rather wager they are food."

"Wouldn't surprise me. Apparently, teachers these days are huge bat-monsters," the Doctor said.

"I have a sample of the chemical they use in the cafeteria food. If we can get back to the TARDIS and analyse it..."

"I have a better plan," Sarah Jane said. "Let's get out of here before those things wake up."

Not long after, the Master had his unfortunate reunion with K-9. He really hated that dog, and he was standing at a distance while the Doctor cooed over it. Eventually they settled in a nearby diner, where the Doctor and Sarah Jane chattered gleefully while repairing K-9. The Master sat down away from them to sulk over his fries.

"I thought of you, when that big space ship came down on Christmas. I knew you'd be up there," Sarah Jane said.

"Right on top of it," the Doctor assured her as he tinkered with K-9.

"Was he with you?" she asked, inclining her head towards the Master.

"Well..." The Doctor frowned, not meeting her eyes. "If you mean 'did he convince the Prime Minister to have Torchwood blast the space ship into bits', then yes."

"So you're not friends," Sarah Jane said. She was in the same boat as the Doctor on this one. "You could have asked for my help. Why do you even take him with you?"

The Doctor furrowed his brows, concentrating on sonicing K-9. "He's done worse than kill forfeiting alien invaders. Keeping him with me is damage control."

Sarah Jane watched the Master maliciously stab at his food as he glared at the people in the diner. He looked tempted to change the menu. "He killed someone close to you?"

"I didn't know her for long," the Doctor murmured. "He has this..." The Doctor had to consider it, not really knowing what was going on in that crazy head. "Obsession. He sought me out and followed me." Forced him to regenerate, even. "Something is very wrong with him. At the same time, I sort of know him, but I can't put my finger on it." The Master reminded him of a particular someone, yet he was everything the Architect had failed to be.

"You could still have come for me. I missed you."

The Doctor forced himself to meet her beseeching gaze. It was hard. "I can't let him hurt anyone else." K-9 powered up. It was time to solve this mystery.

With K-9's powers of analysis, they unveiled that the chemical was Krillitane oil. The Krillitanes were using it to turn the children into a super computer, for means yet unknown. They would confront Mr. Finch about it in the morning. It was time to call it a day. Sarah Jane headed home.

"What are you going to do?" the Master asked.

"I will find out what their plan is. If I don't like it, I will stop it." The Doctor was stern, unlike anything the Master had seen before. He could only imagine how harsh and cold the real Doctor had been back in these days. "I am so old. I used to have so much mercy."

"Now I'm here to drain what little mercy you have left, so you can kill those Krillitanes without thinking twice," the Master laughed. "Sounds splendid."

The Doctor sent him a glare and chased him into the TARDIS. The Master pulled himself somewhat together; he had to try and appeal to the Doctor in some way.

"You have had _so_ many companions, but you keep leaving them because you know humans wither and die," he said. Not a good start, but he could try and row himself back onto safe shores. "I know what it's like." He remembered how the real Doctor had felt about it, anyway. "So Rose was a bit of an undesirable situation, but you're giving me a chance for a reason. You know you don't have to be alone."

His argument hit home, but the constant fluctuation of the Master's behaviour was incomprehensible. The Doctor was confused, yet moved. He decided he would concentrate on the mystery with the Krillitanes rather than the mystery right in front of him. He left the Master and went to bed.

That next day, the Krillitanes initiated the final phase of their plan. While the Doctor, the Master and Sarah Jane poked about in the computer systems, the Krillitanes gathered the children in front of the computers in an effort to solve the Skasis Paradigm, the theory of everything. They were inviting the Doctor to join them, but this Doctor didn't have the loss of Gallifrey to weigh down his moral choices. There was, however, the Master. He saw his own chance.

"I'll help you," the Master said, shoving the startled Doctor to the side. With power such as that, he could have the Real Doctor back.

"And what good would you do us? Who are you, even?" Mr. Finch asked with a scoff.

"I am _the Master_ ," he said with pride. "And I am just the man you need for this."

"You can't honestly mean you will help them unravel the universe and shape it in their own image," the Doctor spat at him, but the Master grabbed him by his coat and stared him down. It hurt more each time he looked at him.

"You have no idea how much I have lost, and what lengths I'll go to in order to have it back."

"I can help you," the Doctor insisted. "I said I would help you."

"You keep saying that, but you're not him and you never will be!"

He wasn't being any clearer than before. Either way, he never got the chance to help the Krillitanes. The Doctor zapped him with his own screwdriver and knocked him unconscious. The Doctor and Sarah Jane were able to pull the plug on the project while the Master was knocked out. He missed the entire wrap-up where K-9 was blown up along with the school, Sarah Jane was given a replacement and they had a proper goodbye. The Master found himself in the TARDIS when he woke up, with his wrist shackled to a couch. That brought back memories, except the Doctor was nowhere to be seen.

This sucked. The Doctor was probably planning some morbidly cruel punishment. The Master didn't reckon he would be cut any slack this time. One chance, that was all anyone got. He'd abused his like a five dollar whore. On another note, he realized his jacket was missing. The Doctor must have taken it to make him somewhat more comfortable, so he couldn't be _that_ angry. On yet another note, his jacket was where he kept the diary and the bowtie.

"Doctor?" He turned around wildly and yanked at the cuff. "Doctor!" There was no answer. The Master trashed and twisted, made a valid effort at pulling his hand free with one foot braced against the couch while standing on the other. None of it had the desired effect. On the plus side, he could only panic for so long. After a while, he resigned to sit down on the couch and fret. There were no greater accomplishments to be made, handcuffed to a couch without company.

He was near dozing off again by the time the Doctor appeared in the doorway, journal in hand and that expression he so remembered Ten for. Guilty and sad at the same time, staying strong without trying to hide it.

"You looked in my journal."

"Yes."

Always so truthful when it really mattered. The Master sighed and straightened up where he sat. "Those are spoilers, but you're just too damn curious, aren't you? So what did you read?"

The Doctor hadn't read all that much. Most of it had been very crude. The rest had been about him, often crude things about him. It told him nothing of who the Master was or where he came from; the journal had been started recently. At last the Doctor had flipped to the very last entry, which had one angry sentence scratched in so hard that the words were etched through four pages. _He's dead, dead, dead, dead_. He had a hard time imagining that they had been in a relationship. It looked more like the ravings of a madman.

"You are from a different dimension. That's why our TARDISes looked the same," the Doctor murmured. He offered back the diary.

"I want the bowtie back," the Master demanded. He held his hand out, without taking the diary.

"Bowtie?"

"Yes. Now."

The Doctor pulled the blue strip of cloth out of his pocket. "This?" he asked with a frown. The Master snatched it and wound it around his own hand, which he curled up into a fist. The Doctor looked at him questioningly, then put the diary down on a nearby table.

"Gallifrey in our dimension was destroyed in a Time War. After he died, I came here with his TARDIS. Not with intentions of finding you, not at first," the Master explained, stroking his fingers over the blue fabric. "That just happened. After his TARDIS abandoned me, this is all I have left of him."

"He—I—used to wear that?" the Doctor asked, scrunching his nose.

"Next incarnation, I swear you'll develop an inexplicable taste for bowties and suspenders."

"You know my Eleventh incarnation?" the Doctor asked.

"I know _most_ of your incarnations," the Master murmured. "But this..." He waved the hand with the bowtie at the Doctor. "This bound us together in marriage. Oh yes." He smirked as the Doctor grew pale.

"You don't belong here," the Doctor said with force, and he pointed towards the control room. "You have to go back to your own dimension. I am taking you there now, before you cost me another incarnation."

"I wouldn't ever harm you, Doctor," the Master said in a murmur. He would have approached the Doctor, but the cuff held him back. Damn it. "Yours is the face I fell in love with. You're the one who _fixed_ me. Now you just have to do it again."

"You're insane," the Doctor said with wide eyes, taking a step back.

"So you keep telling me."

"I am taking you back."

"I closed the rift," the Master lied. He sank back on the couch with a grimace. "After I got here. It's what you would have wanted. Well, second to not going at all."

The Doctor shook his head without taking his eyes off the Master, arms crossed. "Then I am finding a way back, whether you like it or not."

The Master's eyes softened and glazed over. His shoulders sagged and his gaze fell to the floor. "I can't live in a world without you."

The Doctor went quiet. His arms fell to his sides, and after a moment he went to sit down next to him. The Master rubbed at his face with the back of his hand, so hopefully the Doctor wouldn't see his triumphant grin.

"Maybe not right away," the Doctor murmured, patting the Master's shoulder. "After all, it wouldn't be responsible to let you run off on your own." People would die, and the Doctor was not at all against the idea of turning someone to good. "But I need to know what happened between you and... me, I suppose."

The Master grabbed onto the Doctor and curled up to him. "Hmph. What _didn't_ happen? We have known each other our whole lives." This Doctor lacked all the fond memories. The Master could recall when the third incarnation of the Doctor was stuck on Earth, and they had their first real clash as enemies. Time and again his plots had blown up in his face and he had joined forces with the Doctor to save both their lives and Earth. He'd even offered the Doctor to join him and take control over the universe. Together they could command it, heal it and shape it into perfection.

He told this Other Doctor of this, of everything that followed and of how the Doctor in his tenth incarnation had forced him to travel the stars with him, how it had ended in tragedy. He was hoarding all the pity points with a glorious tale of love and loss. The Doctor would think the Master completely enslaved to him by feelings, by the time he was done.

The Doctor sat in silence with one arm awkwardly around the Master, because he didn't know what the Master might do if he pulled away. The Master was holding tightly onto the bowtie, half lying in the Doctor's lap and making him gradually less comfortable by the minute.

"You know I can't just pick up where he left off," the Doctor said quietly. Oh, how complicated this had become. The Master sat up and looked at him intently.

"But you don't have to be alone anymore."

"Time Lords still exist here, remember? I chose not to travel with any of them."

"Because they are boring, dusty academics with no interest in the world, but I am different," the Master insisted. "We had so much fun, you and I."

"But then I died."

"Well, yes," the Master sighed.

"Was your dimension very different from this one?" the Doctor asked warily.

"Like snowflakes," the Master assured without enthusiasm.

"You don't think I'll—?"

"Absolutely not. No way would I let anything happen to you."

The Doctor appeared to be touched, and he would have commented on this confession, hadn't the alarms gone off. Pleasantries would have to wait; it was about to get nasty. They exchanged looks before they both ran to the TARDIS console to see what was after them. The Doctor turned the screen to him and put his glasses on with an expression of distress.

"Oh, no."

The Master grabbed the screen to have a look. His brows furrowed. "We can kill them."

"Not if I can help it," the Doctor said, already working on concocting a plan to avoid their pursuers.

"They'll chase us until they die. Would that make you feel better?" the Master asked pleasantly.

"I am not letting you murder anyone. If the other me could prevent you, then so can I."

"How?" the Master snorted.

"They won't recognize you as a Time Lord. You smell different," the Doctor said. He met the Master's eyes with determination. "I'll have to trust you with this one."

"Is that a Chameleon Arch you are programming?" the Master asked with a nagging suspicion. The Doctor held up a fob watch.

"You know what this is for?"

"Used it myself. It was horrible and I am never doing it again."

"Promise me you keep it safe until the Family is dead."

"Why?" the Master demanded.

"Because it'll be a mercy compared to what I will do to creatures who hunt Time Lords."

*

It was 1913 and the Doctor was a helpless human. The TARDIS had placed them here against (according to the Master) its better judgement. The Doctor's Time Lord configuration had been transferred to a fob watch, which was now resting on the Master's desk. He, for one, had been thrown into this situation without any preparation or desire to live as a human, let alone in such a primal era.

A couple of weeks had passed already. He was getting comfortable in his role as the school's head physician. Of course, nothing was ever easy, even with an unlimited access to adolescent boys in school uniforms.

He was glaring out of the window with a view over the courtyard. Professor John Smith was timidly chatting with the school's nurse. They were two floors below his office window, but he could see them enjoying themselves _oh so much_. Joan Redfern was her name. The Master made her life miserable whenever he could. The Doctor had better not ask her to the village dance.

"May I go now, Dr. Saxon? If... If we're quite finished?"

"Hm? Yes, Mr. Latimer. Be on your way, already. You're missing class," the Master dismissed him, still glaring out the window.

Timothy Latimer eyed his doctor nervously as he put his shirt back on. Then his gaze fell to the fob watch. After Timothy Latimer left the room, the Master didn't think twice about the missing watch. He was too busy sneering at the Doctor, wandering off on his own outside while he had to treat colds and fevers, and scratches and bruises like some 20th century physician. He'd taken the position for irony's sake, and this had better pay off when the Doctor got his mind back.

With the Doctor out of sight, he strode out from his office only to encounter Joan in the ward. Her apparent joy made him put on his "not funny" face. "And what are you so giddy about, Nurse Redfern?"

"Oh, well." She was smiling and fidgeting like a schoolgirl, all blushed. "I was actually coming to see you about that. You know the dance that's coming up..."

"The one you will be unable to attend because there are simply mountains of paperwork?" the Master asked with a laugh. "Hilarious that you should mention it, because I was just about to tell you that."

"B-but," she stammered. "I have just been invited by Professor Smith, if you would please..."

"I am going to see him now and I will let him know, don't you worry, dear. I'll assure him it's my fault entirely," the Master said and patted her bottom. Tomorrow's sexual harassment was today's endearments.

"Doctor!" she scolded him.

"I do love it when you call me that," the Master said, and he winked at her before he slipped out of the ward and hurried down the stairs. His white coat fluttered behind him as he hurried outside. He was having a hard time not killing anyone, and not just because this place was getting on his nerves. It was too idyllic. More importantly, the Doctor was far too vulnerable. The Master sighed and slowed down as he caught sight of him telling off some children in the school yard.

The Doctor didn't raise his voice at the boys. As a human he was too timid, too quiet. He was gorgeous like this, and the Master admired him from afar until the Doctor caught sight of him and nodded in acknowledgement. The Master returned it, hesitant to confronting him. He had told himself not to abuse the Doctor's trust. There were simply so many ways of taking advantage of this poor, misguided human mind. He reminded himself that keeping his trousers on now would give him easier access to the Doctor's trousers later. It was all for the greater good, but as the Doctor approached him, he wavered.

"Morning, Doctor," the Doctor greeted him with a smile. It looked so sincere and void of troubles. The Master hated the word "innocent", but it surely fitted.

"Professor." The Master nodded to him. "How was your night?"

"The usual," the Doctor said. He made sure that no one was listening in before he continued. "Tonight I dreamt of the same flying box," he explained with excitement. "And a robot dog. Imagine that! Men that could turn into giant bats."

"These dreams get more curious each time," the Master said, playing along as the man that the Doctor could confide in. He relished this trust. "Are you sure we shouldn't make another appointment?"

"They are only dreams," the Doctor said with some worry. "Surely they mean nothing."

"Still. I am sure you have a lot on your mind," the Master said smoothly. "Wouldn't hurt to sort it out over a stiff one, would it?"

"When you put it like that." The Doctor shrugged, still nervous but elated. The Master narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, that's right," he said. "I just spoke to Nurse Redfern. Apparently she has a lot of paperwork on the night of the village dance. Medical supplies arrive that day, and she has volunteered to take care of it."

"She has?" The Doctor's face fell.

"Just now, actually," the Master said with a genuine smile of his own. "Any reason as to why she would want me to relay this information to you?"

"Oh. No, none that I can see," the Doctor said, straightening his tie while he stared at the ground. "I'm not even going."

"Neither am I. Sad, isn't it? Whatever will become of us," the Master said with amusement.

Each time it got more difficult to stay composed. The Doctor would frequently tell him about the dreams he had; his only recollections of who he really was. The Master would listen, as the sole confidante. John Smith felt as if the school doctor didn't judge, perhaps even believed him when he said it felt real. One night John Smith brought his dairy along.

"I call it _The Journal of Impossible Things_ ," he said as he sat down in the Master's study that evening. Drinks had been poured, but the Doctor was too nervous to touch his. He held the book close to him, as if embarrassed.

"Catchy," the Master commented, and sipped his drink. "Are you going to show me, then?" The Doctor was suddenly unwilling.

"There is something I haven't told you," the Doctor admitted. He shifted uncomfortably, then gave in and had quite a large taste of the scotch.

"What is it, Professor?"

The Doctor opened his mouth, hesitated, then said something entirely different from what was on his mind. "You may call me John. In private. Unless you think I am being too familiar."

"Not at all. Call me Harry," the Master said, as much as it saddened him not to be called "doctor" by the Doctor. It had been a short-lived pleasure. "What is it you are too scared to tell me, John?"

"These dreams. I have told you how real they feel, as if I am living another life. I am this strange, magnificent hero who can move nations with a single word."

"And surely there's a little something of him inside you," the Master murmured. He filled the Doctor's glass back up, keeping careful watch over the man.

"You are also in there."

The Master raised his brows. "Oh, really." He shouldn't be surprised, but now he was honestly curious for the first time. "Nothing bad, I hope," he said with a bad hunch.

"No, not as such." It didn't sound entirely true. The Doctor was ill at ease with the entire topic, but he had been holding this in for quite some time. "At times I am simply encountering you, other times you are travelling alongside me. You are... You are imposing and foreign to me. A man of action, with incredible power. You have this rod that shoots a burning light. I must admit I find you both demanding and dangerous. Nothing at all like in real life, of course," the Doctor was quick to say. He cleared his throat. "I am sorry, this is far too inappropriate."

"How so?" the Master asked with a laugh. "A rod that shoots light? It's a fairytale adventure. There is no harm in having a vivid imagination. It's delightful, is what it is."

"There are some parts I am afraid of writing down," the Doctor admitted. He turned his head away in shame. "Once or twice the nature of the dreams turns almost... Ah..."

"Intimate?" the Master murmured. His eyes sparkled in the light of the fireplace. He didn't want to come off as a threat, but the Doctor's squirming set his teeth on edge.

"Indecent," the Doctor corrected.

"A far more condemning word."

"As it should be. You would throw me out and not speak to me again if I told you of the obscenities that take place, and rightly so."

The Master put his drink down and got up. He leaned over the Doctor's chair with a smirk. "I assure you, as your doctor. We will work through this, if your dreams make you uncomfortable." He said this in a far too sensual voice. He sure as Hell was the Master of throwing all caution to the wind. "Tell me, John. What happened in your dream?"

The Doctor, now with the background of a man born in the 19th century, was having great difficulties speaking. He was looking anywhere but at the Master, shrinking back in his seat. His head was turned to the side, yet he wasn't making a move to push the Master away. "A kiss," he stammered. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt the Master's mouth pressed to his ear. He closed his eyes, his one heart beating in his throat. He was hot and flustered, trying to deny the pleasure he derived from this. "On the lips."

The Master took the Doctor's face in his hands and turned his head back. Their eyes met, and he could see the desire that the Doctor was fighting. He leaned in, to the point where their lips were barely ghosting against each other. "Then what?" he whispered.

"Your hands. They were touching me." The Doctor's voice was barely audible due to shame and embarrassment. He wasn't squirming any more, but sat still as a statue in fear of the promise of intimacy.

"Like this?" the Master asked. He put his hand on the Doctor's knee, sliding it slowly up his inner thigh in a simulation of their last physical encounter. He moved slowly, attentive to any changes in the Doctor's pulse. Again the Doctor's breath hitched in his throat. His heart skipped a beat and he drew his knees together in an effort to stop the Master's wandering hand. It only served to trap it.

"Harry," he breathed.

The Master cringed at the false name. It reminded him that he should not be doing this. The Doctor would be so angry with him when his memories returned. He was just about able to force himself away, but then he felt the Doctor's slim fingers on his cheek and neck. He remembered how much he missed his Doctor. He wanted to smash something, to cry and scream at all of reality for taking the one person that mattered away, and then playing him like this.

He could hide the watch away and keep the Doctor like this forever. He decided, and then he kissed the Doctor with fiery passion. His rage died out immediately as the Doctor reciprocated, and the Master held him so tightly in his arms. A moment later they were rolling over on the rug, the Master guiding the uncertain Doctor's hands. The pleasure of corrupting was too great, as was the need to taste this body again. The Doctor cried underneath him as he was broken, but the Master reassured him with tender kisses and caresses that he'd never treated the Doctor to before.

The Doctor could scarcely handle the Master's brutal, demanding act, yet he'd never felt so loved. He was forced down, held in place and lavished by a man so unexpectedly starving for his flesh. It was beyond what his dreams had managed to show him, although it stirred something at the very back of his brain. He thought nothing of it until he was allowed to collapse in the Master's arms by the early hours of the morning. He gasped for air and clung onto the Master, shuddering now that the fire was reduced to ashes.

"You will call in sick today," the Master murmured against his ear. He stroked the Doctor's hair back, kissed his temple. "Doctor's orders."

"I can't," the Doctor said, breathless and exhausted. "I... Have an afternoon class. Can't let the boys down." He winced, too sore to warrant for any movement.

The Master snickered, patting the Doctor's hip. "I'll tell the headmaster you had an accident and should rest for today. You need sleep."

"And you don't?"

"I think I just proved to you that I'm rather durable." He kissed the Doctor again before extracting himself. The Doctor was embarrassed, and shielded his eyes while the Master searched around for his clothes.

"I don't know how this happened." Guilt was sneaking up on him. The Master, now with his trousers on, kneeled down next to him and wrapped his shirt around his shoulders.

"Whatever happens, I will protect us. I'm a lot more like the man in your dreams than you imagine." The Doctor was about to protest, but the Master put his finger over his lips. "Whatever happens." This powerless human Doctor could never be a threat. He was just this timid man in need of love that was physically everything the Master had missed. Nothing would come between that.

"Alright." The Doctor smiled up at him, and the Master kissed him again before he helped him to his feet and offered him the rest of his clothes.

"Now, be on your way. You look like a mess."

The Doctor was quick to dress, still so flustered by the Master's wandering eyes. Once he was fully covered up, consciously smoothing out his shirt, he turned to face him. No one could know about this. It was the 20th century. Why, oh why couldn't the TARDIS have dropped them off in Jack's time or something, where everything was allowed? That said, the Master felt a twinge of something at the realization that Jack wouldn't be a fixed point in time in this dimension.

"When can..." The Doctor hesitated, but decided on finishing what he had started. "When can I see you again?"

The Master was called back from his train of thoughts, and he smirked. "Why don't you make an appointment?" he suggested with the dirtiest of intensions.

*

Nurse Redfern checked up on the children in the ward before bedtime. She smoothed out their blankets and made sure they were all quiet and trying to sleep. Before leaving the ward, she turned out the last oil lamp and left the room dark. Right on her way out, she almost bumped into the Doctor.

"Oh! Professor Smith? What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

"Nurse Redfern! Ah, I was simply having a midnight stroll, that is all," the Doctor excused himself without much conviction. She smiled and raised a brow at him.

"Really, Professor. Without a light?"

"I see exceptionally well in the dark."

"Then why are you carrying an unlit candlestick with you?" she asked slyly.

"I was... Ah. You see, this exceptional night vision of mine is a work in progress. You caught me in the middle of night vision development. Yes, that's it."

"You spin the most delightful tales, Professor. You are surely not here to beg me to drop my paperwork on the night of the village dance?"

"Not... Not as such."

"Oh. That was much too forward of me." Her jaw went tense and she knitted her brows. "Excuse me," she said shortly and strode past him with her bottom lip between her teeth. The Doctor would have been mystified, but Professor John Smith felt terrible for her. It was with a heart heavy from guilt that he knocked on the Master's door. He entered quietly.

"Is the coast clear?" the Master asked from somewhere in the darkness after the door was closed.

"Yes."

An oil lamp lit up softly at the far end of the room, casting a warm glow over the Master's pleased face. He beckoned the Doctor closer.

"She didn't volunteer for the extra work, did she?" the Doctor asked quietly.

The Master froze. No, he could not have this Doctor hating him as well. It wasn't fair. His lies never lived very long, it seemed. He took a calculated step closer to the Doctor and took him by his hips. "I was supposed to simply let her have you?"

"You shouldn't have lied. We can't go to the dance together either way."

"I can still be jealous," the Master huffed. He wrapped his arms around the Doctor's waist, pulled him close and pressed his face to his chest. "I can still want to dance with you." And think of Titanic, when he had danced with the Real Doctor for the first time, just before murdering a shipfull of people. What a glorious night that had been. Death and destruction and dancing and Doctor. The thought of Nurse Redfern believing she had the slightest chance with his Doctor made him want to wring her neck.

The Doctor embraced him in return, and they swayed lightly on the spot. The Master thought about when the Doctor's memories would return, and he wondered if this could soon be classified as an on-again off-again relationship. It was all very annoying, and he would have made sure the Doctor stayed like this, if it wasn't for what happened on the night of the village dance.

The Family attacked the school with an army of animated scarecrows. Before the Master could get out of bed, the Doctor had already joined in orchestrating the retaliation. The schoolboys had been trained for battle, but nothing like this. Even the Master was worried, when he realized that the Doctor was in the middle of it all. This was the time to bring John Smith to an end, but the watch was nowhere to be found. The Master swore loudly as he ransacked his office, but foul words didn't exactly aid the situation.

What was worse; he didn't have his screwdriver. He lacked any proper means to fight back efficiently against the Family, and he wasn't letting the Doctor join the front line. He grabbed him as he was rushing past, pulling him down the hall.

"Harry, what are you doing? We are under attack!"

"Don't call me Harry," the Master hissed. "In fact, shut up entirely." He dragged the Doctor with him away from the battle, out from under everyone's noses. There was a backdoor, and it was their way to safety. He didn't have any plan, per say, but something would come to him. They would need to find the watch if they were to kill their pursuers. If the Family was at the school, it probably meant that it was still in the building and something had set it off. Either way there was no finding anything in the ruckus that was going on.

The Master's second idea was to simply run for it. Only a few more days and the Family would be dead. They could wait it out. Forget the watch until the Doctor's mortality became a problem, and in the meantime...

"Doctor Saxon," the Doctor said, sounding like a kicked puppy, but keeping his priorities in order. "Where are we headed? Surely you don't mean to abandon those boys. Is there a plan?"

"The plan is not to die," the Master said, pushing some iron gates open and allowing them out of the school grounds and into the forest. He stopped and grabbed the Doctor by his face, staring up at him with a fierce look in his eyes. "You're not dying for them. I'll kill you myself before I watch you throw your life away again." This last part was said more to himself than to the Doctor, who was confused more than anything.

"Doctor Saxon?" The Doctor sounded worried. Scared. The Master took a deep breath and smoothed the front of the Doctor's jacket, straightened his lapels.

"Harry is fine," he said, now that he had time to control his temper. "Stress, that's all. I know of somewhere we will be safe." Without waiting for another word of complaint, he continued with the Doctor in tow, out to an abandoned house by itself. He knew the girl had lived there, the one that the Family had killed for her body. Being a doctor he knew these people all too well by now.

"Are we simply going to wait here until everyone is dead?" the Doctor asked. This was Professor John Smith, though. He wasn't brave, not like the Doctor. It didn't take any convincing for the Master to make him stay put. The Doctor sank down on a bench, clutching his hands together in his lap as he looked anxiously out of the window.

The Master sat down next to him and put his forehead to the Doctor's shoulder. "It's fine. Everything will be just fine," he murmured. "We'll wait it out. They won't get you." He grabbed onto the Doctor's arm, possessive. The Doctor was put off.

"Do you know what's going on?" He was starting to sound suspicious. The Master couldn't have that, no; he needed John Smith to think only good of him, to adore him, to fulfil his every need and obey his every demand. The Master was grinding his teeth in frustration.

"The Journal of Impossible Things is the real truth," he said. "The Family is after the Doctor. You. I know this because I am here to protect you, and I will never let them get you."

The Doctor looked at him as if he was mad. While as this was nothing new, the Master could have told him that there was a time and place. Instead, he looked insistently at him. "It's alright. You can be John Smith, if we just wait for a few days. They will be gone. It'll be like nothing ever happened."

The Doctor was in a mixed state of horror and denial. He drew away from the Master, standing upright so he could back away with wide eyes. "If what you're saying is the truth, then everyone who dies here today is because of me."

The Master raised his brows, then smiled. "But it's _alright_ , don't you see? You're not one of them. You're like me; we're not part of this filthy race and together we can do whatever we like. All we have to do is sit this one out."

The Doctor seemed all the more convinced that the Master was a raving lunatic. "If the Doctor, the man I've seen in my dreams, is anything like that, I don't want to believe any of it."

"He's not."

They turned to see a young boy standing in the doorway. He wore a school uniform and in his hand was the fob watch. It had no doubt told him where to go; the Doctor wanted to become whole again. Of course that blundering good-for-nothing wanted to protect people. Being a watch didn't stop him from ruining the Master's plans. The boy looked perfectly creepy, and he walked into the room, clutching the watch to him.

"I've seen him," he said with eyes alight. "The Doctor is fire and ice. He travels to the furthest reaches of time and space to protect people when no one else can." He held the watch out for the Doctor. "It told me to come here. We need you."

The Doctor looked at the Master, whose eyes were pleading for him not to. He grabbed onto the Doctor's arm and tried to hold him back. "Don't you dare. Only a few more days, just give me a chance. Those people don't matter; you don't know how _good_ we can have it."

At least the Doctor appeared to be regretful when he tore his arm loose from the Master's grip. He gave him one last peck on the forehead before shaking him off and going for the watch. The Master sank onto his knees, and he refused to look as the transformation happened. It was as if the Doctor hadn't even thought twice about leaving him. He hammered his fists against the floor and screamed out in rage, but the sound fell dead silent underneath the surge of energy from the watch. The Doctor returned.

*

Again he had lost the Doctor. The Master had to smile where he was sitting on a stone fence outside the house, kicking his legs back and forth. Morning had dawned, without any trace of the Doctor. He had left the house and been gone since. He hadn't just been lost in a physical sense, though. Every time the Master thought they managed scrape together a half-decent way of living together, shit happened. It wasn't even funny anymore. In fact, it was so not funny that it was hilarious.

The Doctor would, of course, remember everything. Even if the sex had been great, the Master wasn't sure if the Doctor would appreciate it. Somewhere in that funny old head of his, the Master knew that he'd taken advantage. He didn't feel sorry in the least, not if it was the only way to get what he wanted. It worried him more that the Doctor might be angry enough to leave him on this sucky planet. The TARDIS could already have taken off, and he would sit there like a scarecrow, waiting for his Doctor to return for him.

He spent some time pitying himself, feeling sorry for this clearly unjust situation he had put himself in. He wasn't entirely clear on which excuse he was going for yet, but he was certain that he was in the right. Eleven had been a lot more likely to let "love" fly as an excuse; that was out of the question with Ten. It wouldn't matter, either way. Not if the Doctor just left him.

In the end, his pity-party ended without much pomp or circumstance. He saw the Doctor approaching from down the road, and he knew he hadn't been abandoned. He was a loyal dog—scruffy around the edges but loyal nonetheless—resentfully waiting for his master. How ironic that he was still wearing the white doctor coat. Role reversal. It made him sick, and he wasn't particularly pleased when the Doctor finally caught up to him and stopped a few meters away.

The Doctor wasn't looking at him. There was an inexplicable expression on his face. Possibly it was fury, possibly it was shame.

"Well?" the Master asked. "You sure took your sweet time."

"I had to take care of the Family."

"I see."

"It's all taken care of now."

"Well then." He wasn't about to beg for the Doctor to not leave him behind nor was he going to say that he was sorry, because he wasn't. Every second of ravaging the Doctor's ass was a second well spent.

"If you want to know what happened to them—"

"Not interested," said the Master, who was worried that the Doctor might not yet be done dealing out holy vengeance on this fine morning. "Are we going back to the TARDIS?"

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, looking distressed and awkward as if he wanted to say something more. In the end, he didn't. "Yes. Yes, we are."

They trudged along then, the Doctor in the front trying to hide his deeply troubled mind. The Master sauntered after with his hands buried in the pockets of his white coat. He was walk-of-shaming off a planet. There had to be a reward for that.

"You weren't a half bad doctor," the Doctor admitted.

"Being a doctor in this time and place hardly requires skills," the Master said and sniffed.

"Curious choice of profession."

"I wanted to see what it was like to have a degree in cheese making and so on."

"I am surprised you don't have one yourself."

"Mine would be a degree in evil cheese making." The Master rolled his eyes and decided to cut to the chase. "I thought you would be angrier."

The Doctor was getting hot around the ears. His mind was no doubt full of some steamy, consensual memories that hadn't been there before. He pushed open the door to the TARDIS, but stopped in the doorway to look back at the Master. "I thought you'd be a lot crueller."

The Master found himself torn between pleased and angry. "And what _did_ you expect of me?"

"A million reasons never to give you a chance."

The Master puzzled over this as they got into the TARDIS. The Doctor went straight for the control panel, not hesitating to get them off the planet at once. The Master watched him out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure out what was going through the Doctor's head. Surely he remembered how much he had enjoyed their time together, but he also knew that the Master had taken advantage of him. Such a complicated situation.

*

A fair amount of awkward time had passed. Neither of them spoke of what had happened, and they went on travelling as they usually did. At some point they were back on Earth, walking out of the TARDIS and into pitch black darkness. The Doctor used his screwdriver for light, revealing that they were in a basement.

"This is old. No one has been here for decades," the Master said. "And what's with you always wanting to go to the 21st century? I am sick of the 21st century. Can't you take me somewhere nice, for once?"

"I _like_ the 21st century. It's my TARDIS, so I decide."

"We are in a basement."

"And it's a lovely specimen of a basement," the Doctor said, more concerned with sonicing the area.

The Master made a displeased noise before he wandered off. He wanted his screwdriver back. He also wanted to rule the universe and have the Doctor at his beck and call, but mostly he wanted his screwdriver.

Going upstairs, he found that they were in an old mansion about to fall apart. How fitting; the Doctor's scrapheap had taken them to a scrapheap. With his nose wrinkled, he poked around in the dusty sitting room. No aliens with respect for themselves would stand such poor interior design, so he didn't know what the Doctor was expecting to find. Surely they hadn't come all this way for the sake of aliens whose natural habitat was poor interior design. He knew a few species that required Marimekko to nest, and he doubted they were capable of taking over even such a lousy planet as Earth.

The dust whirled around him and he coughed. Scratch the previous statement; any alien living here would have to breathe dust for a living. Then this house would be the perfect launch pad for a global invasion. He pushed the veranda door open and stepped out with a sigh. He took a moment to pat down his suit, but then he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. He froze, then turned slowly to see the statue of an angel. It had large wings folded on its back and it was holding its hands before its eyes.

The Master knew what it was, but before the realization dawned on him he had already blinked. In that fraction of a second the angel moved from the garden and onto the veranda. Damn his persistent lack of laser screwdriver. He would have to bring it up with the Doctor, but for now he would simply like someone else to be stuck staring at the angel. He had some vivid memories of sand pouring out of Amy's eyes.

"Doctor?" he called out as he slowly backed away. "Doctor!"

The Doctor heard him from down in the basement, and he hurried upstairs. By the time he reached the living room, the angel was in the open veranda doorway, and there was no trace of the Master anywhere. He could see another angel out in the garden, and there was one standing in the stairs up to the second floor.

Being hurled through time without a TARDIS was, by far, not comfortable in the very least. He had possibly just experienced whatever was below vortex manipulators on his list of preferred ways to travel. With a groan he picked his face up from the grass and pushed himself to his feet. As he patted down his suit, he looked around and tried to assert when and where he was.

He was surrounded by fields, with a single dirt road running between them. It looked vaguely familiar, and there were tyre tracks on the road. Either he had been thrown around thirty or forty years back in time, or the angel had simply sent him for a walk on the countryside, because this was definitely still Britain. He knew he'd been here before.

If that honestly was the case, he could just sit around and wait until his past self showed up, and then he'd ask for a lift. Or rather, the Architect's past self, come to think of it. History might be vastly different in this dimension. There could be no one coming for him. The Master sighed. What were a few decades to him, anyway? He could conquer a spa resort and longue back for a bit. Take it as a holiday.

He kicked at the dirt before he started down the road. First thing on his to-do list was definitely to make a new screwdriver. Again. He sneered at no one in particular, but mostly at Eleven's TARDIS for just leaving him. The Doctor had every reason not to go back for him, and he wouldn't even know where he was.

He wandered and he wandered, hating on life and generally cursing the inconvenient situation. He hardly noticed as a canary yellow roadster passed by him in his direction. It took him a moment before he called out for the driver. The man behind the wheel was a dandy in his fifties with curly, white hair, and he dressed in an Inverness cape. Underneath it he would have a velvet smoking jacket and a cravat or bow tie. The Master knew this. He couldn't ever forget; an incarnation of the Doctor that actually liked alcohol.

The car—which the Master distinctly remembered had been named Bessie—stopped. The Doctor looked back at him, impatient. "What are you back there shouting about? Do I know you?" Because he definitely must have smelt something funny about the Master.

The Master remembered how grouchy the third incarnation of the Doctor had been, and he pulled himself upright and tried to maintain some dignity as he walked up to the car. "I've been looking for you, Doctor."

"Is that so?" the Doctor asked and furrowed his brows in suspicious interest. "Have you heard of me from the Brigadier perhaps, or is there some other explanation as to why you know who I am?"

The idea of asking for help was sickening, because this was the time period where the two of them had started their long relationship as arch enemies. Right then he was not pleased to recall any of the events that had taken place at this time. The Doctor had been exiled to Earth by the Time Lords, and he had stolen a part of the Master's TARDIS so that they were both stuck. The Master had a hard time not sneering as he presented himself.

"I am another Time Lord, like you." Except that he was a far superior Time Lord. "I have been stranded here by Weeping Angels, and I am sure you know exactly how frustrating it is to be confined to this lump of space rock. I heard about your exile, how the Time Lords broke your TARDIS and removed the secret of time travel from your mind, but perhaps we can help each other."

"I already have ten thumbs helping me back at UNIT," the Doctor said. "I am afraid I don't quite trust your story. Where did you come from?"

"Yes, as an unpaid scientist for UNIT I am sure you are getting all the help you need," the Master scoffed. This was humiliating. "I was thrown back here from the 21st century and don't have access to my own TARDIS. All I want is to get back to it."

The Doctor did not look convinced, but appeared to conclude that a stray Time Lord with uncertain intentions was not something he wanted on his hands. "Alright. You'd best hop in, then. I am late as it is."

Finally. The Master got in next to the Doctor and tried hard not to roll his eyes. The Doctor was wearing a bowtie that day. The Master found his hand in his pocket, clutching the strip of blue fabric. It was still with him, even now.

"So, tell me," the Doctor said. "Why would a Time Lord such as yourself travel to Earth? And running into Weeping Angels, of all things."

"My, ah, companion has rather taken a liking to the place," the Master said dryly.

"From here, is she?"

"Oh, practically." Presumptuous old goat. "How long have you been here, now? Long enough to see some trouble, I bet."

"The first year was a lot of trouble, but things have been calm these last few months, oddly enough. You should know how the aliens keep popping up in this place," the Doctor said and shook his head.

The Master furrowed his brow. At this point, he should have showed up. How could the last few months have been calm? The Architect was supposed to try and take over the world with plastic, assassinate an American ambassador, awaken an ancient demon in attempts at gaining its power. It wasn't supposed to be _calm_.

They reached the UNIT facilities where the Doctor now worked. His TARDIS was stored away in there, impossible to use. The Doctor had probably messed it up pretty badly in his attempts at fixing it and breaking free of his exile. UNIT's scientific advisor by day, ruiner of TARDISes by night. His glorious conquest would certainly...

Oh no. No, this wasn't right at all. Upon entering the Doctor's laboratory, the Master found himself face to face with his own thirteenth incarnation. Sure, at this point he had found the Doctor a worthy opponent and almost intellectual equal, but they weren't supposed to work together. He had been a haughty psychopath, suave and witty with a sardonic sense of humour. He was _not_ the Doctor's assistant.

The Architect was the spitting image of how the Master had looked at this time. It was back when he had an actual beard, rather than a wife. His hair was greying, but he still looked damned classy, in his own opinion, dressed in all black and with eyes that could look into people's souls. Yes. He had liked this incarnation so much, even if it had been supposed to be his last. It was before the whole mess of resurrection and stealing bodies began.

"Who is this?" the Architect asked with disapproval, casting one dark glance up at them before he returned to working on a machine part from the TARDIS.

"A stray Time Lord I picked up on the road," the Doctor said with poorly conceived, however amused, disdain. "He knows about our exile and insists he can help." In a flourish he removed his Inverness cape and put it on a hanger.

" _Your_ exile. Remember whose meddling got us stuck here in the first place," the Architect said with his concentration and interest set on his work. "Did you get the parts we need?"

"I did." The Doctor cleared his throat. "And he says he was separated from his TARDIS by Weeping Angels." He walked around the worktable to lean in a bit closer to the Architect. "And they removed the secret of time travel from you as well, so be quiet you."

"Perhaps you should show a bit more respect to the only Time Lord here that remembers how to fix a TARDIS, then," the Master said spitefully.

"Very well," the Architect gritted out. And oh, the Master remembered how he had perfected that line back in the days. He had honed these two words into the perfect statement of annoyance and frustration with every lowly and inferior creature that surrounded him and intervened with his plans. _Very well_.

"I am the Master," the Master said and removed his jacket. "Show me to your TARDIS." He would show these stuffy old bastards that they needed him.

The TARDIS was a disaster. They had tried to fix it for a long time, and they had only made matters worse. It would take days, and the Master found himself more annoyed by the minute. At all times one of the old coots was keeping an eye on him, because they didn't trust him in the least even though they depended on his help. Being stuck with the Doctor's third incarnation was one thing, but having his younger self looking over his shoulder was downright uncomfortable. He wondered whether his younger self back in his own dimension would have been disappointed in seeing him now. He'd been so dignified back then.

"Tell me," he said nonchalantly as he sat one late evening in the TARDIS. "How come you got yourself exiled as well? Isn't it the Doctor who is infamous for his meddling?" The Architect was not him, after all. He'd never had to suffer the constant noise that plagued him every waking hour, only to haunt him in his sleep and drive him over the edge of sanity. The Architect was supposed to be a goody-two-shoes, more so than the Doctor.

His question didn't seem to please the Architect much. Questions, in general, didn't please him. He would give the Master what tools and parts he needed, but his participation was minute. "I have travelled with him for a very long time."

"Since you were children, I am sure."

"I assisted him."

The Master raised a brow at him. "But the Time Lords don't consider you as guilty, do they?" Otherwise there would have been a lot less animosity between the Doctor and the Architect. It occurred to the Master that perhaps this was the point in time where the Doctor and the Architect left each other.

"They will clear me of all charges if I leave him," the Architect admitted.

The tools in the Master's hands clattered to the floor and he stared over at his other, far more stupid self. "Then do it! Do you seriously prefer to be stuck on this piece of space junk?"

The Architect narrowed his eyes at him. "Nothing awaits me in Gallifrey, and I don't see how this is any of your business."

The Master straightened up and cleared his throat. "Look, I know what happens to you in the future." And he was not about to let that future change. He was not competing with the Architect if he could avoid it; he was just too dashing. He seemed to catch the Architect's attention, anyway. "I know you; after you are pardoned you start a career in the government. You are practically running Gallifrey in the time I come from."

The Architect didn't trust him, but the Master knew he had a bad habit of dealing with alien races who later turned on him. Getting the Architect to listen to himself shouldn't be a problem.

"What of the Doctor?" the Architect asked.

"He makes it just fine," the Master insisted with a light shrug. "Nothing bad happens to him after you leave. You could almost say he doesn't even need you. Of course, he is sad and alone, but that probably just means you could take him back whenever you wanted, should you regret your decision. You would have every possibility open to you."

The Architect was hesitating, but definitely starting to consider it. The Master inched closer to him and smiled.

"How long have you been stuck here, hm? Over a year. The two of you are arguing like old women. It'll only be a matter of time before you hate each other and tear what's left of your... companionship apart. The only way to salvage what's left is to leave."

His thirteenth incarnation had been a master of manipulation, but the Architect not so much. "What do I do, then?" he asked after due consideration.

"You contact the Time Lords and tell them you will leave in exchange for being cleared of all charges. They return your knowledge of time travel to you, as well as your own TARDIS. It's left on Gallifrey, isn't it? Then you give me a lift to the 21st century before you go back to Gallifrey and conquer it with politics."

He was able to sway the Architect, and he could only hope that the Doctor would never recall meeting him. It was a while until his ninth incarnation; he could hope. And now, as the Architect took care of their ticket out of the 70s, the Master could lounge back and wait. It didn't take long until a light blue horsebox made its appearance on a field not far away, where a circus was setting up. The Architect, unlike the Doctor, kept his chameleon circuit intact.

"Newer model, is it?" the Master asked as he looked over the horsebox with interest. "Far more advanced than the Doctor's."

"We all make some sacrifices," the Architect said. "Get inside. I want to be off as soon as possible." He hadn't told the Doctor, and he wasn't planning on it. Saying goodbye would be too difficult, but of course, the Doctor wasn't stupid. He'd known the moment the Architect had contacted the Time Lords.

"Leaving so soon?"

The Architect stopped halfway into the horsebox, braced himself and turned around.

"I have to."

"As soon as the Master showed up, I see."

"It has nothing to do with him." The Architect stepped down from the doorway and towards the Doctor. "Forget the Master." His ability to control minds wouldn't have much effect on the Doctor, but he could try. The Master had asked him to, and the Architect would have liked the Doctor not to think he had left for someone else. He reached a hand out for the Doctor, but the Doctor pushed it away.

"On you go, then," the Doctor said coldly. "I had better not see you again."

"You will appreciate this someday," the Architect growled at him before he turned and got into the horsebox. He slammed the door behind him. The Doctor didn't stand around to watch the horsebox dematerialize, but he heard the sounds of a TARDIS growing fainter behind him as he walked away. It would be a very long time until the two saw each other again.

"It feels _good_ to be travelling again," the Master sighed. He was lounged back in a chair inside the TARDIS, far too pleased with himself. He had plotted in the coordinates for their next destination, and everything seemed to be going his way for once. Time and again he had asked himself why it never went smooth, but not this time. He felt deliciously cruel as he watched the Architect man the control panel, head turned down.

"You know, I can let you off anywhere you like," he said with a sideways look at the Master. "I can take you back to Gallifrey; you can have a new TARDIS."

The Master went red around the ears. The Architect couldn't possibly have seen through his scheme, could he? No, that was ridiculous. On the other hand, he might honestly have a choice, but he dismissed the thought quickly. "No. This will be fine."

The Architect looked away without a word, looking awfully broody even from behind. The Master jumped to his feet and joined him at the console as they landed. "It'll work out for you," he said. "You won't be missing this; running around on a backwater planet playing hero. Now you can do something important with your life."

The Architect pulled a lever on the console and made the doors open. "Out," he said without looking at him.

"Whoa, hostile much," the Master grumbled. "Fine. But I helped you, and you know it. Some day you will appreciate it. If you don't, well, it was your choice." He huffed and walked out of the TARDIS with his hands in his pockets. He found himself in the street outside the mansion with the Weeping Angels.

The Doctor had better not have gotten himself thrown back in time as well, or worse yet; killed. The Master hadn't gone through all that trouble simply to start a rescue mission. He tried the front door, which was locked. He rang the doorbell before knocking, impatient. This had better be the right year.

He heard the sound of the lock clicking, and the door was thrown open. The Doctor, the tenth Doctor, was looking scratched and out of breath, and more than surprised at his sudden appearance.

"Master?"

"I love it when you use my name," he purred. " _Ouf_." He found himself in a tight, unexpected embrace. His first instinct was to fight, but then he realized that the Doctor was hugging him. The Doctor had been worried. Oh, this was his Doctor, alright. No more grumpy old goat, thank time and space. He melted into the Doctor's arms, until the Doctor realized what he was doing and quickly let go.

"The angels," he said, clearing his throat. "I took care of the angels. They are stuck in the basement, staring at each other. What happened to you?"

The Master joined him inside the house, shrugging. "Nothing special. Dull. I was taken back a few decades. Sat around and waited for the most part. Invaded Poland at one point." He saw the Doctor's expression and had to laugh. "Joking, Doctor." He reached out to run a finger over a cut on the Doctor's cheek.

"You could have come sooner," the Doctor huffed.

"I lost track of time. Besides, I knew you could manage a few Weeping Angels."

"Unlike you. You let them take you, just like that."

"Were you worried?" the Master asked slyly. The Doctor glanced back at him, but said nothing and continued down the cellar stairs. "Hah! You worried about me, admit it."

"Oh, shut up," the Doctor groaned and shepherded him into the TARDIS.

"You know, this would all be better if I had my screwdriver and was able to defend myself."

"It's out of the question."

"Then I can only presume you enjoy saving me," the Master said. As soon as they were inside the TARDIS, he turned around and pushed the Doctor up against the door with a gleam in his eye. The Doctor had no idea what trouble he'd gone through in order to have him to himself. "Is that it, Doctor? You want me to be your damsel in distress? You can hope all you like; I'm a self-rescuing prin—"

The Doctor shut him up with a kiss. He had honestly been worried, and he was confused and driven by the memories of John Smith. The Master couldn't have been more pleased, and after the initial shock he was pulling the Doctor down on him for a proper snog. He pinned him against the door with force, groping at his hair and feeling him up until they both had to break apart for air.

The Doctor's face was red with embarrassment. Whether he was ashamed or just flustered was for anyone to guess. The Master stroked a hand down his chest and looked up at him with a smirk.

"Don't be an ass about it," the Doctor warned him through gritted teeth.

"No one is being an ass," the Master assured. "You're not angry, then?" he added, far more quiet.

"Yes. Of course I am angry. You took advantage of me! Worst of all, you otherwise proved capable of acting like a half-decent person."

The Master stroked a finger along the Doctor's strong cheekbone. It was time for the final strike. "In my dimension, we were married. Think about that. We fought against each other for centuries and this; this is the incarnation of you I first fell in love with."

"I am not married to you," the Doctor said in a mutter. "We can... Maybe if we take it slowly."

The Master pressed his face to the Doctor's chest, mostly to hide his grin as he spoke. "Every second I look at you, unable to touch you..." He stroked his fingers slowly down the Doctor's sides. "...is torture."

He listened intently for a reaction from the Doctor. Without a word, the Doctor brought his arms up, around his back and shoulders to hold him. He knew in that moment that he had won.

*

The Doctor still wouldn't have sex with him (he had a feeling the Doctor still didn't trust his intentions, what was up with that?) but the situation was nevertheless working out in his favour. He simply had to enjoy— _pretend_ to enjoy giving out the occasional hug and surprise kiss. He was endearing himself to the Doctor and there was no way to stop him.

The Doctor was minding his own business trying to run the TARDIS and then suddenly, out of nowhere, _affection_. The Master had his arms around the Doctor's waist, and he pressed a kiss to his neck that made the Doctor's hair stand on end. He was so delicious when he was flustered.

"Where are we going this time?" the Master said in a soft purr against the Doctor's ear. He cast a look at the screen. "Earth again?" There was more of a groan to his voice, now.

"19th century. I always wanted to meet Sherlock Holmes."

The Master raised a brow, still not letting go of the Doctor. "That's the wrong century, though."

"In your dimension, perhaps."

That was right. It was sort of the Master's fault in the first place that time had gone askew and altered the master detective's timeline. It would be curious to see what he would have been like in his natural habitat.

The TARDIS shook as it landed. By now the Master had gotten used to the Doctor's dreadful piloting. What he hadn't expected was the shaking that began after they had landed and were supposed to be standing still. It only took a moment, then it felt as if something was trying to topple the TARDIS.

The Doctor grabbed onto the console for support and the Master ran for the doors. He flung them open and saw a thick tentacle coiling around the TARDIS, which was perched on the edge of a cliff. "Dematerialize us!" he called out and slammed the door before another tentacle could sneak inside.

They materialized a bit further onto the cliff and poked their heads back out only to see the arms of a gigantic octopus questing up over the top of the cliff. The Master looked over at the Doctor with horror.

"What sort of shit version of Sherlock Holmes is this?" he demanded.

"We landed in the middle of his greatest yet least known case," the Doctor said with glittering eyes as he took out his screwdriver. "We have to find him. Allons-y!"

"But Doctor!" the Master cried as he ran after him back into the TARDIS. "How could a giant octopus not be known?" He never got a proper answer to that question. In any case, they had landed on the coast of Newhaven in the dark of the night. There weren't a lot of spectators.

At least there weren't many of them left. They materialized in London the next morning, only to find that the papers spoke of a ship carrying gold, which had been destroyed at the coast of Newhaven. The sole survivor was hospitalized, rumoured to have gone mad.

"If he is mad, what's the point of visiting him?" the Master asked as they headed for the hospital.

"Because mad people usually know what they're talking about," the Doctor said with a cunning smile.

"Doctor, I'm afraid to tell you that you're just a special case."

"Out of us two, you're the mad one."

"See? I have no idea what I'm saying," the Master said triumphantly.

"Nice try. We're going."

Patient confidentiality wasn't that big of a deal in the late 19th century, so they found the hospital and made their way over there in a hurry.

"Just what do you intend on gaining here?" the Master muttered as they snuck through the hallways of the hospital. The Doctor smirked back at him.

"I didn't imagine you to be so grounded and rational. You'd make the perfect Watson to my Holmes."

"You did not just say that," the Master hissed, but was quickly shushed as they heard voices from the room of the survivor. The patient was crying loudly about a monster that had lifted the ship up in its arms and crushed it. As he was sedated, someone was calmly discussing the validity of his story.

"Whomever that snobbish fop speaking is, I am so not buying his accent," the Master said, but was silenced by an elbow to the side from the Doctor as three people exited the room.

"What is the diagnosis, Doctor Watson?" said the owner of the voice that the Master had condemned right before.

"Well, aside from a bit of bruising I should say he is in a fine set of health," said the taller one of them. He had a moustache, and dark curly hair. He looked scary familiar.

"And what do you make of his story?"

"Madness," said a plump man in a bowler hat.

"He suffered a deeply traumatic shock that has manifested itself as delusions," Watson said with certainty.

"So you don't believe then," Holmes murmured with a sly smile. "Nevertheless, Watson. We should investigate the remains of the ship."

"I think we can help you there," the Doctor said, stepping in with the Master in tow. He used his Scottish accent, making the Master weak at the knees and unable to protest.

"And who might you be?" Holmes asked with a frown. "Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?"

The Doctor took out his slightly psychic paper, and the Master hoped that it was more efficient on this Holmes than it had been on the other one. "Aye, Mr. Holmes. We've been looking for you. I am John Smith, head of the Monsters and Supernatural Creatures Control Squad, and this is Colonel Masters. We have been looking for you, Mr. Holmes."

Watson didn't even make an attempt at hiding it as he rolled his eyes. The Master would have done the same, but he was too busy being weak at the knees.

"Oh." Holmes raised his brows. The Master thought that this Sherlock Holmes looked much like a well-dressed ferret. Watson had to be an ancestor of Ianto Jones; there was no other explanation. "I see. You are a bit of an expert on the topic, then?" It wasn't apparent as to whether he appreciated this or not.

Inspector Lestrade, the plump man with the bowler, just shook his head. "I expect you to deal with this, Holmes. Give my regards to your brother; I hear he is out of the hospital." He wandered off, and Holmes appeared more puzzled at his remark than anything else going down around him. The Master leaned close to the Doctor.

"I have to admit, he is more like I imagined Lestrade from the stories. He was damn fine in my dimension, though."

The Doctor gave him a whack at the back of his head. "You were going out to investigate the ship, then? The two of us are very keen on seeing this sea monster of yours. Wouldn't harm to have some experts in store, now would it?"

Watson snorted. "Come on, Holmes. You don't believe there is such a thing as Supernatural Creature Control, do you?"

"Their credentials look just fine," Holmes said. "We'd best be off, before the tide washes away all the evidence. Come along, everyone. The game's afoot."

The Master sent the Doctor a displeased look as they tagged after Holmes and Watson. "You must be joking, right? Watson is supposed to be small and adorable and grumpy, like a hedgehog."

"Like a hedgehog?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes, like a hedgehog."

"He could be adorable without the moustache, maybe."

"Maybe," the Master huffed, thinking back on Ianto. "Either way, you're not serious about following these two, are you?"

"We weren't able to stop the ship from getting wrecked. We have to do something."

The Master considered it. "No. No, I'm still not interested in working with the worst Sherlock knockoff ever."

"How about if I let you decide where we go next? It's sea monsters, Colonel. Aren't you curious?"

The Master was not. He had seen demons and he had seen aliens of all kinds. This was not, in any way, curious. He remained sour, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I'll use the accent at all times until we leave."

"I'm in."

*

It was windy out on the cliff at the port of Newhaven. There was no spotting the ship over the edge of the cliff, and so somehow Holmes was able to convince Watson to climb down with only a rope around him. He lit his pipe calmly as Watson dared the lethal drop, absolutely calm. The Master really only wished that he was watching Watson from an upwards angle rather than a downwards one.

In the end, their investigation of the ship didn't amount to much. They spotted an obviously dead body in the water, and Watson wasn't even halfway down the cliff before they hoisted him back up. It was all a bit of a mess, and neither the Doctor nor the Master was particularly impressed. They took the 7 o'clock train back to London together with Holmes and a traumatized Watson.

"Did you make anything out of our field trip?" he asked with an angry look at the Doctor and the Master. "Since you are the experts, supposedly?"

"Still not believing in monsters, Watson?" said Holmes lightly.

"There were marks on the edge of the cliff," the Doctor countered. "Something was definitely there."

"Do you honestly believe this?" Watson scoffed. "Masters, you seem like a reasonable fellow. What are you even doing in that phoney business of Mr. Smiths?"

"Charity," the Master said flatly.

"I say," Holmes chuckled. "If the two of you don't have anywhere to stay, there is room for you in Baker Street with us, at least for this one night."

"Absolutely," the Doctor said before the Master could intervene. He mentally groaned, knowing he would end up on a couch. On the other hand, he got the Doctor sleeping in the same room as him. When the lights had been turned out, he wasn't about to let him rest any time soon.

As soon as he thought the Doctor had reached a state of slumber, he crept up on him as silently as a cat. He looked over the Doctor's sleeping face critically, but there was no getting by it; he was the exact same as Ten of his own dimension. There was nothing to fault him at. He scrunched his nose up, then in one motion he pulled the Doctor's blanket away and grabbed him at his sides.

"Giant octopus drill!" he called out over the Doctor's surprised yelp. The Doctor sprang up from the couch and ended up toppling them both on the floor.

"What the _Hell_?"

"Remember the accent," the Master chided him with a grin.

The Doctor glared at him for a moment, until he could no longer stand it and broke up into a smile. He laughed. If only he knew about the Christmas they had spent together at Baker Street.

No. It hadn't been _them_. It had been him and the Real Doctor. Under no circumstances could he forget that. For a while it had been just like old times.

"What's wrong?" the Doctor asked, stroking the Master's cheek. The Master shook his head and brushed the Doctor's hand away.

"Nothing," he said, before he pulled the Doctor down for a kiss. "Go to sleep, and tomorrow we'll catch ourselves a sea monster." It wasn't like the Doctor would let him fuck him on the floor of someone else's apartment, anyway.

*

The morning paper surprised them with news of another attack, or rather what Watson called "sensationalist claptrap". The Master felt inclined to agree. A monster had allegedly attacked a boy in Whitechapel, witnessed by one of the "unfortunate women who apply their trade in East End" as the newspaper so delicately stated.

"Prostitute," Holmes clarified.

"I know what it means," Watson scoffed.

"I'm sure you do," Holmes said, smirking in satisfaction at Watson's sigh.

"The important thing," the Master said. "Is that we know the monster doesn't like the taste of hooker. If everyone branched out, we would all be safe."

"This is preposterous!" Watson exclaimed.

"Go on, read the rest of it," the Doctor urged him.

Watson rolled his eyes. "'Local citizens have witnessed the beast in and around Whitechapel'. This is nothing but a product of mass hysteria."

A little mass hysteria never stopped the Doctor. The lot all insisted on following Watson for his morning stroll, and Watson was feeling that his life was becoming unpleasantly crowded by both people and ludicrous nonsense. It didn't help at all when they discovered a massive footprint out in the forest. A rustling in the bushes sent them all running. There was something big out there, and it chased them deep into the forest.

What they saw literally jumping out of a bush was, hands down, a dinosaur.

"Why did I never think of that?" the Master said with awe. The dinosaur let out a roar.

"Run!"

They scattered. The Master found himself hating this dimension. On the other hand, it seemed to have a far higher count of pleasant coincidences than his own, and that was saying something. The dinosaur had chased them right into a rundown building where they found Lestrade. He was also investigating, apparently. He was off rather quickly, leaving the four investigators to investigate.

The building was a pump house, so there should by all means have been a pump. There was not. Either the dinosaur and the giant octopus were up to something involving the waterworks, or there was something else, far more sinister afoot.

Holmes tapped his chin with his pipe as he examined the broken pipes that would have led to the pump. "I am starting to believe that the dinosaur and the giant octopus may be connected."

"Why ever would you think that?" Watson asked.

"I wonder," the Master said with sarcasm. "How could a dinosaur and a giant octopus ever be related?"

*

Holmes and the Doctor ran down leads together, because the Master couldn't stand another word out of Holmes' mouth. The Master joined Watson at the clinic, wondering whether he wanted to find out what Jack had seen in Ianto all that time. It was a very disturbing thought, but after Lucy he wasn't entirely clear on what his standards were. Nevertheless, he found that it would be a bad idea to gamble his chances with the Doctor when he was finally on the right track. Of course, Watson hadn't been informed of the day's arrangement.

"'The dinosaur appeared...' Is that honestly how you are going to start this memoir?" the Master asked. He'd been peeking over Watson's shoulder as he wrote and made him jump in the air.

"Masters? What are you doing here?" Watson demanded once he'd stopped having a near heart attack.

"I thought I should help," the Master said. He'd put on a doctor's coat, mostly out of fond nostalgia. "By not getting in their way." It sadly meant less Scottish accent, but it also meant less terrible Sherlock Holmes. Oh well. He supposed a relationship wasn't validated until after a Sherlock Holmes flick of some kind.

"But you can't..." Watson sighed as a nurse poked her head into his office and announced that he had a patient. "I will be right there," he said.

It turned out that the clinic was visited by an ice cold woman and a sickly, thin and rugged man in a wheelchair. He was there for some heavy medication, which he looked to be sorely in need of. Watson helped them as best as he could and made sure to invite the ice woman on a date. Of course Holmes, being true to the nature of any Sherlock Holmes, cancelled the date with a single phone call to ask for Watson's aid. That night the four of them were going down to Whitechapel to hunt for monsters.

They had been pointed towards a copper factory. Apparently the dinosaur had been headed there, because copper was an excellent conductor of electricity. Watson found himself confused, but they all assured him that he would soon understand. They lay in wait, until late at night they heard noises. Indeed, the dinosaur was back and it wanted their copper. After biting Holmes' leg, it escaped through the roof. This whole dinosaur situation was grating on the nerves by now. Not as grating as Holmes' voice, but pretty grating.

They later visited a rubber factory, as skin scraps from the dinosaur turned out to be of their make. The dinosaur's skin was synthetic. Holmes got them in by pointing out that the factory had barred the inside of the windows, not the outside, and thus had to be trying to keep something inside rather than outside. How that would make a difference was anyone's guess, but it got them inside. They waited in the courtyard as one of the staff got them some information on a client. Holmes had lit his pipe about the same time as the one from the staff came flying out of the top window of the factory in a fiery explosion. Moments later the entire factory blew up, and the four of them were hardly able to scrabble out of the way. The dinosaurs had upped their arsenal and were once again a step ahead of them.

Holmes, on the other hand, had picked up a particular rock on the factory site, and he knew that this kind of stone was only found one place in all of England; an old mansion where he had played as a young boy. This led them to the climax of their investigation. The Doctor was thrilled at how far-fetched the situation was, the leaps in logic and the complete lack of reasoning. They snuck into the mansion first thing that very evening.

"I have so many questions regarding what's going on right now," the Master said as they snuck through the dark rooms of the mansion, holding a candlestick each.

"So have I. Isn't it great?" the Doctor asked with a big grin. "I've never been so clueless. You know, despite that someone is obviously trying to blow up Buckingham Palace."

The Master frowned. "What gave you that idea?"

"Someone is _always_ trying to blow up Buckingham Palace."

There was truth in those words. After evading a deathly gas trap (which somehow did not respond to their lit candles in any sort of explosive way), they found their way to the basement. Here they found several other machines; dinosaurs and a giant octopus which at the moment weren't activated. They were still as death, collecting dust in the dim light. Their eyes fell upon one thing they had not seen before, though; what appeared to be an early prototype of Iron Man.

At first it appeared to be a statue; a copper man with a solid helmet that obscured its face entirely. Watson ventured closer to it and tapped its face with his gun, to which it reacted by giving him a slap to the wrist. The copper man jumped down from his pedestal and attacked.

"Screwdriver, I told you," the Master yelled at the Doctor as they scattered. It turned into a violent fist-fight against the inhumanly strong machine, until it had thrown them all into the walls and had Holmes in a choking grip.

"Who are you?" Holmes gasped out, unable to breathe yet still clutching a sword he had taken down from the wall.

"Drop your weapon, if you please." The ice lady had appeared, pointing a gun at him. Somehow the choking grip hadn't convinced her that the copper man had full control of the situation. Nevertheless, Holmes' sword clattered to the floor. He was put down, and the four of them watched as the copper man removed his helmet. It was the man from the wheelchair previously.

"Hello, brother," he said with a smirk at Holmes. _Now_ the tables had turned.

The Doctor and the Master exchanged looks, wondering what they should feel about interfering in a family affair. Interfering had never bothered them before, and they had little choice as they were led downstairs at gunpoint.

"Glad to see your skills in swordplay have not diminished, Robert," the copper man said to Holmes.

"His name is Sherlock," the Master said.

"I think I know my brother's name."

"I really think you don't." He shut up though, as the ice lady pressed the gun into his back. He sent a sour look at the Doctor.

They were taken down to the copper man's laboratory in the basement, where Watson marvelled at what he saw. The drugs he had given to him at the clinic, they suddenly made sense.

"I don't believe it," Watson said. "You accomplished neuro-transgeneration?"

"Neuro _re_ generation," the copper man said with satisfaction.

The Doctor and the Master exchanged looks. "You didn't teach this idiot anything, did you?" the Doctor muttered.

"How? Why? Like I'd share the secrets of regeneration with _him_ ," the Master scoffed.

It turned out that the copper man controlled his suit with his mind. He had built it after police service had destroyed his body, and now... "I have found a new purpose. I am motivated by something far more powerful. The only thing more powerful in fact, is my love for you, Robert."

Even Holmes was surprised at this one, and they would all have liked to know where this spontaneous exclamation came from, particularly after the choking grip only minutes before.

"Revenge," the copper man explained. "Imagine my surprise when I learned that the bullet which put me in a wheelchair was fired by no other than my partner on the force, Inspector Lestrade."

"Let me get this right," the Master said. "Lestrade accidentally shot you and paralyzed you, so you're going to frame him for blowing up Buckingham Palace."

"Think it's unfair, do you?" the copper man asked. "You can't even begin to imagine a life like—"

"It's definitely my kind of insane," the Master said. "I love it."

"How do you know he's going to blow up Buckingham Palace?" Watson asked.

"Yes, how _do_ you know?" the copper man asked.

"Oh, please," the Master said with an air of pride. "I am a professional. I saw that coming miles away."

The copper man sneered. "Either way, there is nothing you can do to stop me now."

The ice lady opened a door, revealing that they had Lestrade captured and tied to a chair.

"Brother, please," Holmes begged him. Heroically he ran across the room for Lestrade, only to be shot by the ice lady. The copper man yelled out, as did Watson.

"I feel a lot of conflicted emotion here," the Master commented.

They had been right, one way or another. The ice lady was also a mechanical contraption, and the copper man had installed a bomb in her. After kissing her he sent her off to Buckingham Palace, before he left them all tied up and took Lestrade to a giant, fire-breathing and flying mechanical dragon that waited outside.

Of course Holmes was alright (tobacco boxes were excellent bullet repellents), and after setting them loose and sending them after the bomb lady, he took off in a hot air balloon. No better way to fight a fire-breathing mechanical dragon than a very inflammable balloon with a Gatling gun mounted on it. Seriously. It worked.

The dragon had managed to set fire to half of London by the time they caught up with the bomb lady. People were screaming and fleeing in every direction, until the dragon and the balloon both crashed right outside Buckingham Palace. Watson ran to the ruins, only to have the dying copper man point a gun at his head. Holmes was forced to shoot his brother in order to save his best friend, and the Doctor and the Master all watched it with speechless astonishment. Somehow, the world was not going to remember this. They were both shocked by this knowledge. Apparently a mechanical dragon fighting a hot air balloon, and also dinosaurs and giant octopuses, was not interesting unless John Watson wrote about it, which in the end he didn't.

The Doctor and the Master stood in the flickering light of the fire that blazed over the ruins of the mechanical dragon, and the Doctor turned to the Master. "I hope Mycroft hasn't put any ideas into your head."

"Hah. Who am I to be affected by a power-crazy megalomaniac with giant mechanical dragons?"

"A power-crazy megalomaniac _without_ giant mechanical dragons."

"You make a fair point. This must be redeemed quickly."

"His name was Thorpe," Holmes said. "My brother's name was Thorpe."

"No, Mycroft," the Master said. "Your brother's name was Mycroft."

"I think I know my brother's name," Holmes insisted.

"No, you really don't," the Master sighed. He looked over at the Doctor. "Can we leave? Please?"

Yes. Yes they could. Exhausted, the two of them returned to the TARDIS. They were leaving so many questions unanswered, but they thought they were better off for it. Once the TARDIS' door was closed behind them, they couldn't help but look at each other and laugh.

"What _was_ that?"

"I have no idea, but it was glorious," the Doctor said and shook his head. They smiled at each other, until they both grabbed hold of the other and met in a ferocious kiss. It seemed ridiculous after what had just happened, but it didn't matter. Compared to what they had just witnessed, their own situation seemed too easy to explain and conclude. That, or maybe mechanical dragons was just a huge turn-on. The Master would keep it in mind for next time he needed them to fight their way to the bedroom while ripping each other's clothes off.

He could force his Doctor down in the sheets without guilt for the first time. He wasn't taking advantage and he wasn't hiding anything. He could simply have his slow, intense way with him until they were both glistening in sweat and gasping for breath.

Of course, he was still hiding the fact that he was the one that broke up the Doctor and the Architect, and he felt guilty for being unable to let go of the Doctor. He was only there to compensate for the loss of the Real Doctor. He sighed as he lay in bed, covered in the Doctor's naked, sleeping body and still not satisfied. This Doctor wasn't enough. He needed more.

*

"I was under the impression that you couldn't stand Earth," the Doctor said.

"Our destination was for me to decide," the Master said simply. "I told you not to ask questions."

"I wouldn't if I wasn't highly suspicious of your activities."

The Master had taken them back to the 21st century. He had said he wanted to do a bit of a science project and the Doctor had allowed it, if not without doubt. They had been there for about a week now, and the Doctor was growing impatient. That the Master was working with human scientists did nothing to reassure him.

"I told you. Tonight will be the grand unveiling of the experiment. You will simply have to wait until this evening before you get to know what it is."

The Doctor was not convinced, and so the Master reached up on his toes and placed a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"It's something good. I promise. After tonight, no power in the 'verse can stop me," he purred, pressing another kiss to the Doctor's neck. The Doctor didn't know what to make of this, and he stroked the Master's hair with consideration. "I had you in mind when I made it."

This didn't serve to calm the Doctor's nerves, but the Master wasn't the one in charge of this project. Surely the Master could find a way to make the humans develop their own doom, but working through humans was far less efficient. If anyone could muck up their own destruction, it was humans.

And so the evening was allowed to unfold. The leader of the experiment was an old, rich man by the name of Professor Richard Lazarus. He had arranged quite the posh gala around the unveiling of the _Lazarus Experiment_ , as it had been named. The Doctor was surprised that the Master had allowed this. One would think his massive ego got in the way, but this seemed to be a new side of him.

There was a large crowd there to watch as the veil was drawn away from the machine created by Lazarus Labs.

"This will change what it means to be human," Professor Lazarus stated before he entered the machine.

"You gave them alien technology," the Doctor groaned as the machine fired up. It was whirring and creating all sorts of light and noise, and for a moment it looked in danger or exploding, and the Doctor was about to lose his head until it finally stopped. Out walked a young Professor Lazarus, and the crowd gasped. The Doctor was no less shocked.

"What have you done," he whispered.

"Changed what it means to be human," the Master murmured. "Now your precious race can live forever. Are you not pleased? It's a gift to you."

"No. No, I don't believe for a second that you did this for the sake of humanity," the Doctor sneered at him. "Tell me what you are planning. You promised to tell me."

The Master wasn't getting the reaction he liked. He might as well not sugar-coat it. He took the Doctor's hand, not allowing the man to run off. "Very soon I am going to get myself elected Prime Minister of this country. By then, the Lazarus Machine will be commercially available everywhere. I will make sure of it. While it makes the human younger, it also turns them into sleeper agents that can be activated at my command. I will already be in a position of power, and I will make them turn to me for salvation."

The Doctor didn't believe what he was hearing. He backed away, shaking his head in disbelief. "You can't. I won't let you."

"Oh, yes you will. You will help me, even," the Master said.

"Never."

"Look, you knew this when we got together, that I am going to burn in a special Hell; a special Hell they reserve for child molesters and people who talk at the theatre. You knew what you were getting into. Do you think you can turn me down now?"

"I was supposed to change you," the Doctor said, horrified.

"Exactly." The Master smirked. "Are you giving up simply because I am trying to take over the world? That's like saying someone is too much of a criminal to go to jail."

"Excuse me?"

"It makes perfect sense if you think about it. And you can't hear it, but I am getting an epic drum beat in the background right now."

The Doctor was confused, but more than anything he was appalled at himself for letting this happen. He could have stopped the Master at any given point, but he had been too blinded to see it coming. The Master pulled him closer by his wrist, leering at him.

"Come on, Doctor. I am going to need someone to pose as my pretty wife. Can't be Prime Minister if I am unmarried, can't I?"

"So you can relive your little fantasy?" the Doctor sneered. "Play house?"

"Mostly to piss off America."

The entire room was busy fawning over Professor Lazarus. If the Master had been in any situation to look at him, he would have remarked upon how the young Lazarus looked curiously like the Real Sherlock's Real Brother. This dimension had it all wrong. However, he was busy forcing the Doctor into his embrace, and only one thing in the entire fabric of reality could have stopped him. That thing arrived with a familiar _vworp vworp_.

He couldn't believe it at first. The surging, grinding noise of screeching brakes took everyone's attention away from the future of humanity, and it began to materialize as quite real. It was like a wedding so long ago. The crowd parted to give room to something that materialized in the middle of the floor. It was big, it was brilliantly blue and the Master had never thought he would lay eyes on it again. He let go of the Doctor, of the impostor, and he staggered forward with open mouth and eyes like saucers. Napkins and paper was whirring through the air in a flourish around the tall, very solid police box. Complete silence rang throughout the room, and the doors swung open.

He was slinky, he was dressed in a tailcoat and a top hat, and he was leaning on a sonic cane. He smiled with self-satisfaction and straightened his bowtie with hands that wore white gloves. He had never looked more gloriously alive and stylish.

"There will be dancing, right? I only go to parties for the dancing."

The Master's knees buckled. He was going mad. Mad. Mad. Mad. But no, for only the Real Doctor could twirl his cane around and walk into his private scandal with such nonchalance and flair. "Doctor..." He couldn't find words, nor could anyone else. Hell, no one else existed at that moment. The Master carefully stepped closer to Eleven, as if he was afraid that he was an apparition or a ghost that would vanish at any given moment.

"You're alive."

"Yes, I'm alive; of course I'm alive. There's no way I could be not alive, silly." He reached a hand out for the Master. "What did you think the Teselecta was for?"

The Master rubbed the back of his hand furiously at his eyes, sneering at the floor as he fought joy. "You're alive," he said, half choked and quiet.

"Yes, we already clarified that," Eleven said, reaching out to take his hands. "And now we are going back to our own dimension before this gets any more dangerous, hm?"

The Master swatted him away before he gave him a flat hand across the face. It echoed throughout the room. "You're alive, you fucker!"

Eleven staggered back, clutching his cheek. "Ow. Yes, well, could we talk about this when we are not in danger of ripping the fabric of the universe apart?"

The Master was snarling through barred teeth, and he was struggling between the urge to bite the Doctor and going with him. He would do both; it was simply a question about in which order.

"Don't."

The Master looked back. Ten had grabbed him by the elbow and was looking at him with determination.

"Don't go with him," Ten said.

Eleven frowned, still smiling but dangerously so. "Oh come on, Doctor. You know you don't stand a chance against the Doctor."

The Master shook his arm free. "Sorry," he told Ten. "You're not him."

Ten looked like a kicked puppy in serious inner turmoil. He was losing the one person that cared about him, and in turn he was losing every grip on what was right or wrong. He had been able to watch the man he cared for walk away once, but he could not let it happen again.

"I'll help you," he said bitterly. The Master stopped in his tracks. "I will help you take over the world."

The Master's eyes gleamed. "What do you have to offer against that, Doctor?" he asked Eleven. More than anything he loved that the two were fighting over him.

Eleven snorted. "I am not helping you take over this world any more than I would let you take over mine."

"Yes." The Master's lips curled with displeasure. "You rejected that notion a long time ago." He took Ten's hand.

Eleven couldn't believe what he was seeing. "You are married to me. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Tough luck. I also want the world."

Eleven's lips became a thin line. He couldn't meet that demand, though he ransacked his brain for a way around the situation. "Then I have to stop you."

He hadn't even raised his cane before Ten had pushed the Master back and whipped out his screwdriver. "You of all should know better than to threaten someone I care about, Doctor."

"You know, I used to enjoy having more of me around," Eleven said. "But you're really not very flattering."

Ten replied with a deadpan expression. "I suggest you take your fancy suit and cane back where you belong, because this stopped being funny a long time ago." There was a fire burning in his eyes, a willingness to fight tooth and claw until there wasn't a shred left of him capable of protecting the man he cared for. "If he doesn't want to go with you, I swear there is no power in the universe that would let you take him."

The Master raised a brow at Eleven. He had nothing to add to that. He was certain that at the moment, Ten could move planets with his intensity alone. In fact, Eleven took a step back, putting a hand on the doorframe of the TARDIS. His smile was forced in place, but his eyes were dark with a promise that this was not over.

"I can only say that I am very disappointed in you, Doctor. You don't know what you have gotten yourself into." He couldn't fight them both at once.

Ten said nothing. His screwdriver was pointing unflinchingly at Eleven, his expression was void of waiver. He was radiating a sort of nobility that Eleven could only dream of, and the Master was soaking it up as he watched Eleven step backwards into the TARDIS and vanish. Only when the final noises of the TARDIS were gone did the crowd begin to chatter wildly.

The Doctor eased up a little, and his hair fluttered with the last winds of the vanished time machine. He lowered the screwdriver, but his eyes were still fixed at the point where the TARDIS had been. He did not know what he had signed up for, but he would go through with it. He had made his decision and he would stand by it.

The Master wrapped his arms around the Doctor's waist from behind. He brushed his lips against the rock-steady Doctor's ear and he whispered. "Take me _now_."

The Doctor turned his head to look at him, and then he took the Master by his elbows and dragged him out of the hall. In the first private room he found, he bent the Master over a desk and gave him exactly what he wanted. The Master wanted the Doctor to fuck him until he cried. They didn't exchange a word until the Master was a quivering mess in the Doctor's arms, exactly as he liked it.

"You and I," the Master said, breathless and laughing between shivers. "Together we can heal the world, and rule it." He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the Doctor's shoulder. He was smiling. It was terrifying. If the world could have seen his confidence and satisfaction at this point, it would have surrendered.

*

In the time that followed, the Master spent a lot of his days reflecting. He was running for Prime Minister again (after getting rid of all the humans that had witnessed the argument), and he knew he was retracing old steps. Surely this wasn't necessary, but it was occurring to him that perhaps he had a desire to be stopped.

More importantly, it was starting to sink in that the Real Doctor was alive. He hadn't died on that nightmarish day at the beach in Utah. It wasn't his body that he had set alight and returned to the fabric of Time and Space. He was too angry to be happy about it, and whenever he began to miss Eleven he always had Ten at hand.

With Ten on his side he should have been overconfident about winning. Two Doctors was fine for a short time, but in the end he was probably going to be so very fucked, and not in a good way. He hadn't won yet, and he would have to be careful. His imminent success was mind numbing, and so was Ten's head resting on his shoulder while he tried to sleep, unable to because of a particular drumming partying in his head. It was as if the noise got worse whenever he tried to be rational about something.

He looked down from the ceiling when he felt Ten's hand stroking his cheek. Their eyes met, and he really didn't need to ask what was troubling the Doctor. He could feel the question in his lingering gaze, and he stroked Ten's hair and made a soothing noise. "Shh. Go to sleep, or I'll fuck you until you regenerate," he purred.

Ten raised a brow. "Would you like that?"

The Master had a feeling that the right answer wasn't "yes." Instead, he replied "no. It's a figure of speech. I just invented it, so I should know."

Ten settled back down. The Master had resigned to the fact that this was a long shot, but Ten was honestly worried. How adorable. He stroked a finger up Ten's cheek and murmured softly to him. "You don't know the reason why I regenerated last time. I was this old, useless geezer. Then you showed up. The tenth incarnation. You were young and handsome, and I wanted to be all of that," he said. Languidly, he ran his tongue up the Doctor's cheek before kissing his forehead, possessive. "I am this for you. If you saw the fuzz I made when Eleven came around, you wouldn't worry for a second."

"It's not about incarnation, though. You don't belong in this dimension," Ten said quietly.

"It's alright," the Master whispered, stroking and soothing the man in bed with him. "You're my Doctor."

He would allow them both to believe that for now, if only so he could enjoy one last attempt at seizing the world and everything he ever wanted, when in fact he was deathly afraid of what the Real Doctor would do to him. It was part of the thrill. Forcing the Doctor to fight himself made his blood boil, only to soon after become ice in his veins as he imagined the aftermath.

He held Ten tightly to him, eyes narrowed and face set as he contemplated to the sound of continuous drums. Eleven would see that he hadn't changed, and he would be locked up or worse. He wasn't going to allow that again, whatever the cost.

While as he and Ten got through another pensive night on Earth, Eleven was landing his TARDIS on a planet far, far away. It was a regeneration since he set foot on Gallifrey. He had his first kiss with the Master lying in the red grass of these fields. Everything had been cruel and rough when they started off, but it had changed; for a long while he thought that the Master had as well. This conflict was his own fault for leaving the Master out of his plan, but nothing should have been able to drive them this far apart.

He wondered if they would ever have been capable of it; living on Gallifrey together. They had been able to dream, all that time ago. He was a Time Lord; able to go anywhere, anytime, and yet there was no going back.

He walked through the silent halls within the Citadel of the Time Lords, in the Mountains of Solace and Solitude. He could clearly see the silver trees in the distance, the fields underneath the amber sky. He wouldn't have set foot here again if it wasn't for the one person he knew would help him. Deep inside the Citadel he found an old man by himself. His hair was white as snow, and his fingers fumbled with the pen he used to scratch down writings in Gallifreyan. The stacks of books that surrounded his desk were taller than him, and even in the robes of a Time Lord he didn't come off as someone powerful. He was an antique, a remainder from the past that had been put away to be forgotten.

The Doctor recognized him, though they hadn't ever met. He had seen this face at the very end of the universe, when the last hours of time were ticking away and this mild, caring man was humanity's only hope of escaping tragedy. Then he had remembered who he was, and everything had gone wrong. The Doctor leaned on the doorframe, unable not to look fondly upon him.

"Hello, you," he said with his smile askew and eyes gleaming. "It's time we met, Architect." The Architect looked up at him, brows knitted and old eyes full of wondering. "I'm the Doctor."

It would take some clarification. He certainly gave the old man a fright, but he invited himself inside, sat down and started explaining.

"I came here from another universe. I know; you don't have to tell me what that might do to the poor old girl, but I am chasing another Time Lord. He came here who knows how long ago and now he is threatening Earth. He tends to do that."

"Earth, you say." The Architect slid aside the leaf-thin papers on his desk, until he found a map of a vaguely familiar galaxy. "I have been there, a very long time ago. Yes, we visited several times." He looked as if he'd rather not think about it. The furrow between his brows deepened, and he looked up at the Doctor. "What does any of this have to do with me?" he asked.

The Doctor was certain that the Architect was trying to read him, see through him and find out what their history was in this other dimension; if it was anything like this world. The Doctor had a dilemma of his own. In the end, he decided that the Architect had no need to know about his other, insane self. It wouldn't do anyone any good. "This Time Lord who escaped from my dimension calls himself the Master. He has caused nothing but trouble his entire life, throughout the entire universe." No offense, but it was the truth. "It's not going to be any different here. I want to reason with him, to talk to him and make him come back with me. I can make him listen, so long as he doesn't have the upper hand. Usually he doesn't, but your Doctor is helping him."

"'My' Doctor?" the Architect asked with equal amounts of disbelief and dread. "He would never do such a thing. He is a meddler, but he would never do anyone harm who didn't deserve it."

"Well just now, healing the world has become second to running rampant with the Master," the Doctor insisted. He was getting impatient. "Once the Master has taken over Earth, he will use it as a launching pad for an invasion that will cover every corner of the universe. I know because he has tried it before, only this time I have to fight both him _and_ me. Wouldn't you want to stop me, him, from making my or his worst mistake ever?"

The Architect stared at him as he tried to make sense of this, and then he shook his head. He understood well enough, but the past was too painful. "The Doctor, both you and him, do whatever you like. This isn't your dimension. Go back and play hero where you belong." He waved the Doctor off, wanting him gone from the room. The Doctor pursed his lips and got up.

"Fine. Fine, do as you like you... you lazy excuse for a Time Lord. As exciting as you are, I wonder why I ever left you." He wasn't sure how much sense that made himself, and he really wished the other Doctor had been the eleventh incarnation as well; they understood each other a lot better.

"Doctor."

The Doctor paused on his way out and looked back over his shoulder. The Architect had a stern, tired expression that was sure of its conviction.

"The Doctor, you and him both, will always do the right thing. If this Master is as bad as you say, I don't see a reason why he won't realize his mistake and fight alongside you."

"Yes, that's all very nice and flattering of you," the Doctor said without looking appreciative. "But he has a reason, and that reason is love. The Doctor is a silly old man who will always do anything in his power for someone he loves."

This made the Architect shut up. He got uncomfortable as he tried to hide his true reactions, and finally he caved in. "The Doctor loves him?"

"Whether he realizes it or not, he surely must," the Doctor replied and tried very hard to ignore the irony of his words. He was quite sure that the Architect was onto him, too. How unfair for him that both Doctors should want to be with someone else than him. Nevertheless, what was important were the lives at stake. The Architect's regrets—if he had any—would have to wait.

The Architect rose from his chair and let out a sigh. He went into a drawer, finding a slim box that he ran his fingers over. "It's been a long time since I was on any sort of adventures. I don't know if I can hold up in a fight on my own anymore."

"Nonsense. You look amazing. You might want to bring a pair of glasses and a cane, but you'll be just fine. Besides, I'll be at your side and together we a very likely, possibly, to be capable of talking them down."

"No." The Architect opened the box and took out his screwdriver. It had collected dust for some time, but it was the exact same design as that the Master used. This, the Doctor found, was slightly disconcerting.

"No?" he asked, still considering the screwdriver. The Architect passed him in the doorway and went out in the hall. He followed. "What do you mean, 'no'? That doesn't even make sense."

"'No' as in I will not waste my breath on an interdimensional troublemaker. I'm going to talk my Doctor, as you call him, into reason and I don't need you there." He pressed a button on his screwdriver, which lit up and summoned the Architect's TARDIS. It was a black, sleek thing that appeared right before them and opened up.

"No. No, no that's not how we accomplish anything. We have to meet them together. You're being insane, and trust me, you don't have a good track record with insane."

"I told you to go back to your own dimension, and I meant it," the Architect said. He shook the Doctor off and vanished inside his TARDIS. The Doctor let out an unseemly curse as it soundlessly dematerialized, and then he ran down the hall to get back to his own time machine. The Architect was far more like the Master than he had anticipated. If this became any worse, the Architect would join them rather than stop them. It was no doubt in his nature. The Master's plot would have to end one way or another, regardless of whether the Doctor liked the outcome.

*

As Prime Minister the Master could ensure the distribution of the Lazarus Machines throughout Britain, and the rest of the world had begun opening up to the idea as soon as they saw the perfect results they were achieving. As for his actual duties... While he was waiting for his massive airborne fortress to be finished, he had taken the Doctor and escaped to the countryside. They were sitting on an old pier on the coast of Sussex, with no sign of civilization around them. White beach and cliffs were the only things within miles. The Doctor hadn't said much on the flight down there, or ever since he was elected.

"I think congratulations are in order," the Master told him. He was sipping a glass of champagne. The Doctor had declined.

"They didn't stand a chance to begin with."

"Because I'm clever," the Master said and pulled the Doctor closer to him with one arm. Ten's face was blank, void of any joy that the Master had been elected as Prime Minister. That wasn't how it was supposed to go, and the Master put his glass down. He took the Doctor's face in his hands and cooed at him softly. "Now see, I am confused. I was under the conviction that you were _helping_ me, because we are going to stay together no matter what." He stroked the Doctor's hair out of his face, smirking up at him. He would have pressed on and asked if the Doctor didn't care for his happiness, but he seemed to have gotten through.

"Congratulations," the Doctor said and leaned in to kiss his cheek. It was stiff and without emotion, but it would do. The Master was frankly surprised of the things this other Doctor would do for him. The Real Doctor never would have strayed from the right path, no matter how alone he ended up.

"I don't see why you would go through the trouble of being elected when you could simply use your mind-control to make them distribute the machine," the Doctor said.

"It's a question of style," the Master said. He let go of the Doctor and reached down to remove his shoes and socks. Next he rolled up the legs of his trousers and the sleeves of his shirt. He stood up on the pier and undid his tie, letting the breeze that rolled in from the ocean carry it away. "Once I rule everything you'll get whatever you like," he said as he stared at the horizon with his hands folded behind his head. "We can heal the world, force it to perfection together."

"So long as you control it?" the Doctor asked.

"Exactly. Now, take your shoes off."

The two of them wandered the shore together until the sun set. It was dark by the time they returned to the pier and finished off the champagne, and the Master was relieved to see that he could make the Doctor smile and forget about the horrors they were about to inflict upon the world. Only for a little while. The moon was high above them by the time they returned to the summer house, just up a narrow path from the beach.

The house was located on a bit of a cliff with a view of the ocean. There was a lonely rock on the very tip of the cliff, a black monolith framed in blue light by the moon. In the dark it took a moment before they realized it was entirely out of place. The Master barely ducked in time to avoid a scorching orange laser, which shot past his ear and singed an unfortunate hawthorn behind them.

" _Really_?" the Master said as he picked himself up and dusted off his trousers. The Doctor had whipped out his screwdriver, and he used it to illuminate the little path they were on.

Out of the shadows stepped a familiar face. Too familiar. It was like being haunted by one of his past reflections. As soon as he recognized the Architect, the Master had his own screwdriver at the ready.

"What are you doing here?" the Doctor asked. It was obvious that he hadn't expected him to show up. The Architect was the last person to give him any sort of solace.

"I came to tell you what an idiot you're being," the Architect said with scorn directed at the Master. "This is a renegade Time Lord from another dimension. What, after he failed at destroying his own world, you're going to help him destroy ours? I thought I was the one who gave up too easily."

"You left!" the Doctor accused him. He might as well be staring at a ghost.

"Our past has nothing to do with what you're about to do to this planet," the Architect said, mournfully so. His eyes softened just a little. "You look well."

The Doctor faltered, and the Master lost his patience. He pushed the Doctor to the side.

"Very nice to finally meet you, Architect, but you ruined a perfectly good evening," he sneered. "Just die." Before anyone could react, he had shot the Architect down with a single beam from his screwdriver. It wasn't going to be done so quickly, and he stepped forward to finish the job when the Doctor ran past him and fell to his knees by the Architect.

"What have you done?" he yelled at the Master.

"He's not dead yet," the Master huffed and crossed his arms. "It was a warning shot."

Golden light began to illuminate the body of the Architect. The Doctor carefully laid him back down and backed away, not without glaring at the Master. He took a firm grip of his arm.

"You are not killing him."

"Sorry, Doctor. I just can't afford him meddling," the Master said. It was now or never. If he let him regenerate, there would be no stopping him. He hefted his screwdriver, but the Doctor seemed to have his mind made up.

"If you kill him, I'll leave."

The Master paused to consider his options. "But you won't let him talk sense into you, will you?" he asked. "No matter what happens now?"

"I won't," the Doctor said, pleading.

It was too late, at any rate. There was an explosion of golden light that knocked them both off their feet. By the time the light subsided, the Doctor was speechless and unable to tear his eyes away from the Architect's new appearance.

"When were you going to tell me?" he asked quietly.

"Come. If you want him to live, then we are getting out of here now. He won't be following us for some time, but he is going to be a problem." The Master hauled the Doctor to his feet, away from the Architect who was slowly coming to. The regeneration had left him weak, and this was their little window away from a man who would be invincible for the next hours. He took the Doctor by his hand and dragged him away.

The Doctor looked back, and in the dark he could see the outline of the Architect's new features. He looked exactly the same as the Master, except for his dark hair. This was in no way a coincidence.

"Look, it changes nothing," the Master insisted. "The Architect abandoned you, but I am a different version; the one that wants you by my side."

The Doctor did not seem convinced, but he said nothing. He was worried for the Architect, and it was becoming more and more difficult for the Master to get through to him. Leaving the Architect out in the dark did nothing to ease his conscience.

*

They reached the final stage of the Lazarus Experiment. The Master had gotten the Valiant rebuilt from memory, which would play an essential part in his plan. This massive airborne aircraft carrier would be the perfect fortress from where to initiate the chaos. He had set up a wireless transmission with isometric controls that would allow him to activate the sleepers. Everyone who had been subjected to a Lazarus Machine would be turned into a weapon under his command. Ten was there with him, and he was trying to ease the poor Doctor's nerves.

"It will only be a demonstration. What would I do with some mountains of human corpses, anyway?" the Master said in an attempt at reassurance. "I can just as easily deactivate the sleepers, as soon as the world has seen the power I have over the human race."

The Doctor wished he could believe that. The Master saw that he didn't. The two of them were sitting in a window in the control room. The Master had left the guards outside. He stroked the Doctor's hair, traced his fingers down his neck almost lovingly.

"Isn't there anything I can do to make you stop?" the Doctor asked quietly. "Nothing else could possibly satisfy you?"

"Nothing," the Master murmured against the Doctor's ear. He kissed him with a soft chuckle, then nuzzled into the back of his head. "Mmh. Besides, what would I do in this dimension if I gave up on this? You wouldn't want me to leave, would you?"

"I'd hoped you had at least one reason to stay."

"Oh, absolutely," the Master assured, taking the Doctor's chin in hand. "But I have a reason for going back that's just as good. It evens out."

The Doctor still didn't ask outright who he'd rather be with. The Master liked it that way. He wasn't sure what his answer would be. He cooed at the Doctor and was about to kiss him again when a very familiar noise caught their attention. A distinct _vworp vworp_ filled the room. The Master feared it would be the Architect returning for a rematch, but it was worse. The TARDIS that appeared in the control room was a blue police box.

Eleven was back, and he stepped out of the time machine looking prepared for a final battle. He would fight to his last breath before he let the Master destroy life on earth.

"Look who's back," the Master said through gritted teeth. He got up, striding up in front of Eleven with Ten at his side.

"I've come to give you one last chance," Eleven said. "Don't make me stop you."

The Master had to laugh. "Really?" he asked. " _Really_? You know you can't defeat us both. Now, I am not going to kill you, Doctor. If I were, it would have happened a very, very long time ago. On the other hand, I can make you watch Earth's des—"

"I am not helping you fight him," Ten said.

" _What_?" The Master whirled on him with a sneer. He couldn't hear his own thoughts for the enraged noise in his head. "You couldn't have chosen a better time to betray me? One where I wasn't _this_ close to winning?"

Ten looked at him with the sort of hopelessness than only he could portray. He had tried, but he could no longer pretend that he was capable of betraying the Earth. He'd given up. Just like that. The Master snarled, taking a step away from him and towards the control panel. He looked from Eleven to Ten and back again.

"Do you think I don't have the advantage still?" He felt behind him for the control panel. "I can turn a third of the human race into killing machines with a simple command. I already conquered this planet! They just don't know it yet."

"Master, don't," Ten began, but Eleven broke him off.

"If you stop this now, everything can be as it used to, before you thought I was dead. We can travel again, just you and me. You can see Amy and Rory again. You miss them, don't you?"

The Master gritted his teeth. His fingers had found the keyboard. If he only typed in the command, the planet would be one big massacre.

"Or you could come with me," Ten insisted. "You said so yourself, I am _your_ Doctor."

"He married me," Eleven huffed at Ten.

"Maybe he's tired of the abnormally huge chin. I really hope my next incarnation won't have that."

"I have some bad news for you," Elven said.

"Will you both quit it?" the Master asked. "There is something you both can do to stop a global bloodbath." He waited until he was sure that he had their rapt attention, and then he pointed to Eleven. "Kiss him," he told Ten.

The Doctors blanked, and then they looked at each other with hesitation.

"Nothing against this very diplomatic way of solving things, but honestly there's a time and a place for that sort of—"

Eleven never got to finish. Ten was very insistent about coming out on top of this, and he grabbed Eleven by his lapels and swung him around in a kiss so intense he found himself on the floor flailing. At any later time he would deny just how mind-blowing this experience was. When Ten was finished with him and let go of him, he was dishevelled and wondering what the hell just hit him.

He looked up with big eyes, and both he and Ten saw the Master at the control panel, typing in the last bit of the command. The sleepers were activated. He looked at the two Doctors, apologetic. "I just can't resist if given the choice." So many lives depended on this one little command, and he was the deciding factor as to whether they would live or die. At the moment he activated the sleepers, he was a god. He was a god and he had to kill, murder, maim, kill.

It didn't take long before they heard the screams rising up from the city below them. Those who had been subjected to the Lazarus Machine were transforming into massive scorpion-like mutations who fed on the life source of all living things around them. In all parts of the world, the sleepers were being activated in an instant. Countless people would die every second.

Ten ran up to the Master, taking him by the front of his jacket. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it. Just stop this madness _now_!"

"You can't force me," the Master hissed.

"You'll find that we can."

The Architect had joined them, appearing from the TARDIS with his screwdriver at the ready.

"Oh, great. Now you choose to pop out and contribute," Eleven said. "Much use you are as reinforcements."

"Hopefully now you both see him for the genocidal psychopath that he is," the Architect said. "And neither of you will get in my way. Stand away from him, Doctor." He was ready to shoot at the Master, but Ten was still holding onto him. He refused to let go and give the Architect a clear shot. The Architect's jaw clenched and he tried to ignore the pure hatred he felt for this crazed version of himself that somehow could do whatever he liked and still have the affection of both Doctors.

"Good luck stopping this without me," the Master said. "The controls are isometric."

"I'll trust we have the same DNA. I said stand away, Doctor."

"We won't solve this by killing him."

"That's exactly what we will, now _stand away_!"

Ten was relentless. The Architect boiled over and he fired anyway. In a split second the Master grabbed Ten and pulled him away with him, just as Eleven tackled the Architect. The Master and Ten got out of the way of the laser, which passed by them and hit the control panel. It blew up, followed by some noises throughout the ship that were in no way good. The whole deck shook. Very slowly the ship began to lose altitude.

"Lovely," the Master muttered. "You doomed us all."

"Hello. TARDIS," Eleven reminded them. A TARDIS which was now beginning to slide across the floor as the ship cantered. They threw themselves out of the way as the TARDIS caught speed and crashed into the far wall. They were all thrown after it, and the Master took his chance to get his own screwdriver and attack the Architect with purpose. They fell on top of each other behind the control panel, ending in a fierce struggle that sent laser beams cutting through the walls and the ceiling.

Eleven had nearly been knocked unconscious, but he found himself right next to the TARDIS. He grabbed onto it as he felt the ship begin to canter the other way after a series of explosions on the lower floors. They were in a rocking boat and might as well have been at sea in a storm. He made an effort to assess the damage once he managed to hold himself up straight.

The control panel was completely destroyed. There was no way they could disable the sleepers from here. The ship was closing in on the ground, and if they survived the impact they would be surrounded by mutations programmed to kill.

Ten was making an effort to stop the Master and the Architect from fighting, but another violent tremor shook the ship and he was thrown off. A shower of debris rained down on him, and Eleven cursed himself before he ran to help him out. They had the TARDIS. If they only stopped fighting, they could...

"Master?"

The Master was next to him, helping him dig through the debris. He had cuts and singes all over. Eleven looked over his shoulder to see the Architect lying limp on the floor.

"If we can just get back to the TARDIS, I can fix this," the Master insisted. "Just help me get him out!"

There was an honest desperation in his voice, and Eleven helped move the debris and drag Ten out from under it. He was coughing and shaking, but as soon as he saw the Architect he pulled himself together.

"No."

He scrabbled across the floor, not listening to a single word from the Master. He crawled to the Architect, who had taken a direct hit with the laser. He was dying. They all were, but by the looks of it, the Architect would be the first to go.

"It takes more to kill a Time Lord," Ten said through gritted teeth. "Architect." He scooped him into his arms. "Architect, you're not going to die here."

"Looking like _him_? I'd rather be dead," the Architect muttered. "And besides..." He struggled with his words.

"Hush. Hush, don't say anything. You can regenerate. Why aren't you regenerating?" Ten asked. He stroked the Architect's face, unable to do anything and it was tearing him apart.

"I already lost what's most important," the Architect said. He coughed blood. He wouldn't last another minute. "Go with them."

"I couldn't. Don't... I forgive you, do you hear me? I forgive you!"

The Architect was already gone. Ten lowered his head so neither Eleven nor the Master could see his face. Ten's shoulders were shaking. That they were going to crash and burn seemed insignificant now. The Master was glad that the Architect had at least never gotten a chance to reveal that he was the one who split the two of them. He felt Eleven's hand on his shoulder and looked up.

"Let's get out of here," he said and went to open the doors of the TARDIS.

"But the Doctor..."

Eleven looked at him sternly, waiting by the door without a word. The Master couldn't for the life of him believe what he was seeing, and he turned around and went for Ten.

"Come with us," he said, grabbing Ten by the shoulder. "Let go of him and come with us."

Ten said nothing. He was tired beyond the struggles of that day and the time he'd spent with the Master. Every day since the Architect left him had been a trial. When he had finally been able to forget his hurt, he'd fallen victim to the Master and everything had gone wrong.

"We'll figure something out. If you stay here, you die," the Master insisted. He didn't want that to happen. He'd have both of them if he could have his way, but even if it simply meant taking Ten to safety, then he wanted Ten on the TARDIS with them for one last trip before he left this dimension.

"You made me live again. If only for a little while," Ten said. "But you just cause pain and death in the end."

"So you'd rather die?" the Master asked. "What sort of fucked up decision is that?" he demanded.

"You killed him," Ten said quietly and turned away from him.

Eleven took him by his wrist, and he dragged the Master away. Flames were welling up around the ship and smoke was making its way through the smashed windows. They had seconds, and Eleven hauled the Master back to the TARDIS. The Master fought and kicked, refusing the fate that Ten had chosen.

When the door locked behind them, he sank down along it to sit on the floor as the Doctor dematerialized them. The last thing they heard before the silence of space was a massive explosion all around them. The Master visibly winced, and after that there was only the soundless nothingness of empty space all around them.

They were adrift for some time before the Doctor even tried to approach him. The Master hadn't moved a muscle, but sat with his head leaned against the door. The Doctor kneeled down next to him and regarded him mournfully.

"Did you love him?" he asked.

The Master looked up with sore, red eyes. "I think so." He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. "I don't know if it's just because he was you or not."

"You were cruel to him," the Doctor said. "And what you did today is unforgiveable."

"I can still fix it."

"Then I suggest you do so."

The Master got up slowly. He moved around the Doctor and went up to the TARDIS console. He had been thinking of this for some time. It was a small consolation, if nothing more. He had a choice between two terrible fates, but he could alter what had happened today.

"What are you doing?" the Doctor asked, joining him at the console.

"I am sending a message through space and time," the Master said. "It will change history so that none of this will have taken place. It shouldn't affect the two of us if we hurry back to our own dimension."

"I see." The Doctor hesitated to ask just what he was going to send. "The Architect sure surprised me, though. He's nothing like you, after all."

"Then maybe you don't know me all that well," the Master replied. "I was ready to do the exact same rather than to be locked up in your TARDIS. The Architect would rather die than continue a life without meaning." He'd seen how his Doctor had come to care more for the Master.

Self-conscious, the Doctor cleared his throat. "Just exactly what are you going to change?"

The Master finished the message and paused with his finger on the "send" button. He glanced to the Doctor, wondering what he would think of this. "I am sending the secret of time travel to the Daleks."

"You're... Excuse me, what?"

The Master pressed the send button. The Doctor's panic came on a second too late.

"What, what did you just do?" the Doctor yelled, tearing at his hair. "Have you even considered the consequences of this? This means they will have a Time War in this dimension as well. You just destroyed Gallifrey!"

"Technically, _you_ destroyed Gallifrey," the Master corrected him. "But the Architect will hear the drums. He will go insane. He and the Doctor will fight for millennia."

"And that's what you call 'fixing' it?"

"They'll end up together, like they were supposed to."

The Doctor struggled to find a good argument, flailing and gesturing towards nowhere in particular. "You destroyed Gallifrey!"

The Master remained calm and collected. "What's important is that we're together." He turned away from the screen to face the Doctor. "What happens to us?"

"We'll discuss that when we get back to our own dimension," the Doctor snapped at him. He pushed the Master aside and got to the controls. The Master watched with his hands in his pockets as the Doctor relocated the hole in reality, and before he knew it they were back in their own dimension. It almost felt foreign after all this time spent away.

His fingers automatically closed around a familiar strip of fabric in his pocket. "Home," he said softly. "As much as you can call it that."

Again they had no home planet, they had nowhere to go and he definitely didn't know what to do with himself without the Doctor.

"I have to ask," the Doctor said. "Why didn't you come home with me at once?"

The Master lowered his gaze to the floor. "I was angry, of course. I thought you were dead, so what was I supposed to do? I was going crazy all over again, so I left to find the one thing that could possibly make it better; you. Then you show up, all alive and smug. In fact, just thinking about it makes me want to give you a good smacking." He scoffed, clenching his fist. "So what do we do?"

"Well, you're obviously insane," the Doctor said. "And it's never going to stop."

The Master shook his head. "The noise is back and I can't... I don't know what I'll do next."

"I can't let you go, that much is clear." The Doctor placed his hands on either side of the Master's face. "But the noise is only your imagination this time. We made it go away before, we can make it go away again. I just hate to think you left your hearts back in that other dimension."

Slowly, the Master pulled out the ribbon from his pocket. It was worn and a bit singed from the last big battle, but it was no doubt a blue bowtie. "I never stopped thinking about you. Knowing he wasn't you... That drove me more insane than anything else."

"That's..."

"I kept it since the day on the beach in Utah. I went to a lot of trouble of getting it, so I wasn't going to lose it any time soon."

The Doctor's expression softened. He let the Master undo his current, red bowtie and replace it with the worn one that had bound them together as more than lovers. "One more go, then? Our next disastrous adventure can't possibly turn out any worse."

"You keep telling yourself that," the Master said. He reached up on his toes to kiss his Doctor. "And we never really finished the ceremony, did we?"

"Fair enough, but only if you promise never to run off again, even though I appear to be dead."

"Deal."

"And no more genocide."

"Darn."

They wrapped themselves in a more passionate kiss, finally enjoying the relief of their reunion. Two years had passed since they were married and separated. It was nothing compared to what they had endured before. Still they had spent more time as enemies than as lovers, and no doubt were there trials still ahead of them. Until the end of time they would find new ways of destroying what they had, but they would also rebuild it every time. They both knew that, and they didn't have to tell each other that they would take on the challenge whatever the cost.

Like this, enveloped in a tight embrace, they were able to finally whisper their true names to each other. There was no taking that back, and though events might get between them again, they would always find a way to return to this one point in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a good run, folks. Thanks to everyone who enjoyed this story through to the end! To credit the crossovers (I had no wish to spoil the surprise), here is the complete list:
> 
> Doctor Who Classic (season 8)  
> Firefly (The Message)  
> Lie to Me  
> Sherlock  
> The Asylum's Sherlock Holmes  
> Torchwood
> 
> I have been asked several times if I will write more when season 7 comes out, and that seems unlikely. This fanfic is officially finished, but I might just be inspired. In the unlikely case that I do write a chapter for season 7, it will be done only when the season has run its course. Again, all comments/reviews are highly appreciated. Enjoy season 7 everyone, and everything thereafter!


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